Where were you when your world has ended?
by Iguy
Summary: March 2010 - The body of a young man was found in an alley. Behind his death, a cruel game of revenge. Will Mac Taylor's team be able to stop it before it will be too late?
1. Prologue

**Title: **Where were you when your world has ended?

**Fandom: **CSI: NY

**Character: D**on Flack, rest of the team

**Pairing: **mainlyFlack/Angell

**Set In Time: **March 2010 circa (Season six). The biggest difference: _Pay Up _happened, but Jess isn't dead... c'mon, I can't kill her!

**Rating: **T (some violence and blood and death and angst...)

**Disclaimer: **CSI: NY is not mine and never will be. I only own the killer and the general storyline. I'm earning no money, okay?

**Author's note: **English is not my first language; I just hope the fiction is understandable and simple to read. If you like to leave a review I'll be very glad. Please, be gentle, though; I'm fragile.

**Prologue**

Where were you when your world has ended?

Dark tie, ironed shirt and pants. So unusual. _Waiting for the surgeon, sat in a waiting room_. Looking at the doctor he had wished everything went well. He had almost spotted hope in the other man's eyes. But he had been wrong. His instinct had failed him again. They use to laugh about it. _Used to_. Well cut hair. Gun, holster, badge. It was almost like being back in the Academy. But the pain he was feeling was too much real.

Where were you when your world has ended?

She tied her hair in a serious and neat ponytail. Her bangs brushed slightly her eyebrows but the length was perfect: blowing it had been one of his favorite games. Before the accident, of course. _Sat on that hard chair, Danny's hand stroking comfortably my shoulder. _She hadn't misunderstood the doctor's sight. She had been able to see, in the man's eyes, the bottomless well of despair where her dreams had died. Everything ended in a blink of an eye. A slight touch of blush on her cheeks, in order to fake a healthy complexion. And, on her finger, that blinking ring as a endless pain reminder.

Where were you when your world has ended?

He grabbed his white gloves. His eyes were colored in their usual emotionless gray. _On the crime scene, because it's the place where everything starts for me. _But he suddenly realized that that was the place where things ended for someone else. And it hurt, because that specific _someone else_ was taking away with him part of his existence. It'd be weird – and terrible – standing on future crime scenes without him. He put his watch on, his eyes finally showing the pain he was feeling.

Where were you when your world has ended?

Her curly hair didn't want to be kept in order and she was getting annoyed. _Driving to the lab, the bullets safe in an evidence bag. _Yes, she had had the bullets, the perpetrator had been arrested but the result had been terrible and tragic. The blood traces marring the bullets had been too much to see. She had been obliged to collect them, _it's my job, _but she had felt like she had been as culpable as the killer. It was an absurd thought, she knew it, but she couldn't help it. Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe normally, a task that seemed impossible. If she had been able to completely fall in love with someone, she would have chosen him.

Where were you when your world has ended?

Lucy was whining. She hoped the little girl didn't ruin her pressed uniform. _At home with my baby. And my husband's voice... _her husband's voice had been broken, trying to explain something impossible to explain. And it was impossible, indeed: among the unknowns of life he was the one who had been always there, laughing while telling one of his stupid jokes. The only brother she could have imagined to have. Lucy put her little head on her shoulder. The pain didn't disappear, though.

Where were you when your world has ended?

The barber's job had been good: the cut was elegant and simple, it suited him. _On the crime scene, with Mac, staring at the terrible blood pool on the floor. His blood. _Being a doctor, he had known the blood had been too much and that a miracle had been needed, but he had hoped 'till the end. He had survived the explosion, hadn't he? But when Mac had answered the phone, he had known. He checked his attire in the mirror. What had happened was among the probable tragedies in their line of job, he knew it. Like he knew his friend had never backfired from dangerous situations. But the pain was still there, gripping him.

Where were you when your world has ended?

He didn't own a neat uniform and he was glad. He knew he wasn't worth it. _In front of the lab PC, listening at loud music through the earphones. I hadn't even heard the first call. _His thoughts had immediately run to Sam. His little, sweet Sammie losing a vital part of her existence. He knew all his love and comfort could never fill up the void. But he was planning to get her through it, because he had trusted him in the first place. He wasn't going to disappoint him. He bent to tie his shoes, thinking at the polished black shoes of his – former, by now – coworker. A stab of pain stole his breath.

Where were you when your world has ended?

His wife had insisted he had to wore a tie. So, he had complied, but the choice didn't suit with her. He didn't mind. At all. _In the morgue, so sure to have the best job in the world. My personal way to give dignity to the dead. _But things had suddenly changed. For the first time ha hadn't want to give dignity, he would have preferred to look at him and laugh at his jokes. The weird color of the tie seemed to increase the pain.


	2. Chapter 01: A routine call

_A/N: I'm saying this only because I'm a little paranoid and I need to be as specific as possible: The chapter happens before the prologue._

**Chapter 01: A routine call**

_RIING! RIING!_

A hand crept from under the covers to grab the cell phone on the bedside table. The alarm was lazily flashing the hour: 02:45 a.m. The bedroom was pitch dark.

"Flack", the man gruffly answered.

"Good morning, detective!", Vera, from the night shift, was always cheerful and energetic, "One of our patrol car, the Fifteenth, has just discovered a dead body near a garbage can on the Fifth. They're waiting for you"

"My world will be a far better place if the first words I heard the moment I open my eyes wouldn't be _patrol car, dead body, garbage can"_

"Detective... it's your job!", she half giggled.

"Okay, okay... be there in ten minutes"

Without wasting more time, Flack got up and get ready quickly. While going downstairs, he texted: "_Jess,_ s_o much better being awaken by you. Another body. When the killers will learn that even detectives need time to sleep? D."_

Flack smiled: A text first thing in the morning when they weren't together has become their routine. Just a cute gesture to say _I'm thinking at you. _Flack's smile grew wider: Only a couple of months and then they'll be living under the same roof. _If one of us don't kill the baker or the photographer or the florist... no, wait, _flower designer _as he stresses out every time we talk to him._

The traffic wasn't too congested despite the flow of people leaving the closing clubs. Flack couldn't really recall a night when he had gone to sleep after long partying. In his mind, three am was the hour when most crimes happened. But he was okay with that: As Vera had commented earlier, it was his life, a life he loved.

The scene was exactly how he had expected it: Flashing blue and red lights, an ambulance parked in a corner and the well-known yellow tape reading _Police Line: Do Not Cross_. Young officer Tom Grady was moving around with uncertainty. Flack knew it was his first homicide since he had graduated from the Academy few weeks prior. He moved closer and lightly touched his shoulder: "Officer..."

Grady's hazel eyes blinked at him and Flack noticed the young man's mouth open and close a couple of times before producing any sounds.

"Detective Flack... the... the body is right there... Officer Smith has told me to look for eye-witnesses..."

Flack bit his lips to avoid smirking: Ted remembered him Adam Ross, the nerdy tech from the lab.

"Perfect. Thank you", leaving Grady behind, he walked toward the victim. He wasn't surprised to see Mac Taylor crouched next to the corpse. He was looking for invisible details using his torch.

"How can you already be there?"

"I was in the lab consulting some old files so I answered the call"

"You're right: Sleep is so overrated..."

Mac didn't reply. He knew he was a workaholic and he also knew that Flack's comment was nothing more than a friendly form of greeting.

"What can you tell me?", The detective had stepped closer without kneeling down. He was wearing a new coat and he hadn't any intention to ruin it. _Just call me vain, if you like. I just don't care._

"Gunshot. Probable entrance hole here", the CSI replied, pointing to the victim's chest, "I still don't know if there's an exit wound, I'm waiting for the coroner to give it a check"

"Of course"

The two men smiled silently, knowingly. Needles to say: Don wasn't' going to help Mac turning the body. He didn't like corpses.

"Something else I need to know?"

"Right now, that's all. The COD seems to be the gunshot"

Flack looked around, searching the concrete.

"Okay... let's say he wasn't killed here since there's no blood. Our killer just discharged him there, even if...", Don nodded towards the bin, "... he was wrong: This isn't the organic waste bin...", Smith's giggles reached his ears, "... by the way, any ID?"

Mac checked the dead man's pockets and the surrounding perimeter.

"Nothing on him and nothing on the street"

"Okay. Mister John Doe needs a name... Hey, Messer!"

The young CSI had just arrived and was quickly walking in their direction carrying his kit and camera.

He eyed Mac: "How..."

"You know, he's like the terrible killer in the horror movies: He never sleeps..."

Danny yawned: "We, normal people, on the contrary..."

Mac turned slightly raising an eyebrow. It was enough.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'"

"Well, gentlemen, I'll let you do your job. I have mine: Eye-witnesses"

Without waiting for a reply, Don moved towards the small crowd full of curious people. Getting closer he heard the usual comments – _Manhattan is just hell; the police is able to do a single thing? Probably, it's a latino gang – _Don sighed deeply: It was going to be a very long day.


	3. Chapter 02: Witnesses time

_A/N: Well... if there's anybody reading this... thank you! _

**Chapter 02: Witnesses time**

She was a cute thirty-something woman, with brown hair and freckles all over her face. Flack wrote down her name, Sandra Poulson, on his loyal memo-book. _Mac has his pen light and I have my memo-book. _He looked at the woman.

"I was at home, I live there", she pointed to a window in the condo behind her, "You know... my boyfriend – well, ex boyfriend - and I have just broken up and I'm always a little anxious, especially at night, and when I heard that noise..."

"What time was it?"

"Well... around two, I guess. Not later than half past two, by the way. Chris stole me love and sleep"

Flack ignored Poulson's comment, knowing well it wasn't case related.

"What did you see?"

Sandra thought intently for a while, tilting her face to the right: "Mhh... a dark car stopped there. Someone got out to discharge _something..._ it looked like a bag, to me. I really don't know"

"What else?"

"Then the man got back in the car and sped away. I went back to bed soon after"

"Didn't you think that the...", Flack looked at his notepad, pretending to be absorbed reading, "... _bag _was strange-looking?"

The girl frowned: "Not really. I just thought it was garbage"

"Of course! It's so normal discharging garbage at night and then left in a hurry with a car", Don sighed, "The car... color, model?"

"It was dark, maybe black, maybe gray... I didn't see the plate and about the model... mhh... a Ford? No, listen, I don't know anything about cars... after three years I still has some doubts about Chris' car and..."

The detective interrupted her, trying not to sound too annoyed: "What about the man?"

"Medium height, not too fat, not too thin... average, I guess. He wore a black jacket and a pair of dark pants. Boots, or something similar. I think he had a cap, I didn't see his face"

Don scratched his hair, thinking, and took notes. Then he gave Sandra his card: "That's my number. If you remember something else, please, call me"

She took it and smiled, half shy, half blushing; "Of course, detective... Flack"

Don smirked a little greeting her with a nod. Officer Smith approached him: "That man over there told me he noticed the victim lying on the street. Wanna talk to him?"

Flack shrugged: "Why not? Maybe he could come up with something useful..."

"Good evening, sir. I'm detective Flack, and you are..."

"William Ramirez", the short man with black, little and spirited eyes was staring at him.

"So... officer Smith told me you spotted the victim..."

"Yeah, even if, at first, I didn't think he was a man. I thought it was just trash"

"You went closer?"

The witness shook vigorously the head glancing down: Curiously, he was wearing a pair of green flip-flops.

"No!"

Flack's eyes were sharp: "You sure?"

"_Claro que si"_

"Okay... someone would find peculiar the fact you slipped into your mother-tongue, but I'm just an ignorant police officer"

William didn't reply, but Flack noticed the man suddenly looked uneasy.

"Let's go back to the case. After you established – from far – that it was just a garbage sack, what did you do?"

"I... walked away. Few seconds later, I heard the siren: The _pula_ was there. They left the car and discovered the body"

"And the _pula, _speeding – I don't know – less than a mile from it saw the corpse. Wow, they must have been officers with super-sight"

"I don't know... but I didn't do anything!", the witness almost cried. Flack didn't seem annoyed; in fact, he hid an amused smile.

"That's enough. Here's my card. Do me a favor: Don't disappear"

Don watched as Ramirez walked away. Then, he closed his eyes tightly, feeling the start of a pulsing headache. He glanced at the two CSIs still occupied in taking photos and collecting evidences. He decided it was time for a little briefing with his men, who were quietly chatting in a corner, confronting the different versions of the story.

"The large part of the witnesses declared they didn't see anything. They're just there for a little fame..."

"We can only 'count' on Miss Poulson and Mister Ramirez"

"Add David Lewis, he lived on the second floor. Well, he just said he heard the piercing sound of brakes, of door slamming and of a speeding car, but..."

"That's similar to what Mister Lux told me", agreed Smith.

"We have at least four people who have seen or heard something but no one called 911... just great, everybody only minding their own business"

"We're really pessimistic tonight, aren't we?"

Flack abruptly turned, surprised to find Danny standing behind him: "Night... it's dawn, by now"

"What a drama! Losing your beauty sleep must be dreadful"

"Mpfh"

"No, wait, I know! Organizing the wedding is taking its toll"

Don closed his eyes, sighing: "Let's just say that I'm not exactly ecstatic at the perspective of calling the catering... again"

"Isn't this up to the lovely bride?"

"No, if you consider the lovely bride is a homicide detective, too... we're splitting the organizing chagrin", Flack ended with a sigh, noticing Danny was holding the evidence bags, "You headin' to the lab?"

"Yeah... meet you there?"

"I'll go to the precinct first. I'd like to ID the victim"

"Okay. The first who has good news calls the other"

"Sounds like a plan"

The two parted, reaching their cars. Flack wildly hoped to find their culprit as soon as possible.


	4. Chapter 03: Identity

**Chapter 03: Identity**

Flack, engrossed in reading his case notes, didn't notice the coffee cup appearing on his desk. As soon as the rich aroma hit his nostrils though, he glanced upward, his eyes meeting Angell's.

"Coffee?"

"That's exactly the reason why I'm marrying you", he stretched, loosening his back muscles.

"You're really funny, you know? Bad case?"

"Do good one even exist?", he turned the memo-book in her direction.

She read for a couple of minutes, biting her lips. "Have you already found out his identity?"

Don glanced at the computer screen.

"From missing persons, nothing yet. CSIs are processing his prints... but I don't know how much time they need...", grabbing the cup he gulped down some of the dark liquid, "Thank you, Jess. I was going into withdrawal"

Angell smiled tenderly, stroking lightly his arm. Obvious PDA was a big no-no and they were too professional to even risk to ruin their reputation.

Flack was about to say something more, but his computer bipped claiming his attention. He clicked a key, opening a file.

"There he is: Gregory Buster, thirty-seven years old, 159 Lexington Avenue. His sister, Carla, filled a missing report two days ago. Better contacting her"

"He has been found near the Fifth, hasn't he?"

"Yeah... We're still looking for the primal crime scene. Though we have an address now", he stood, grabbing his gun from the desk drawer. Angell looked at him silently as he secured the Glock in the holster and then grabbed his jacket and coffee.

"I'm going to the lab, talking to Danny. Maybe he discovered something, too"

"What about...", her cell rang and she answered: "... Angell. Right, I'll meet you downstairs", she ended the call, "Stella. Homicide at Bryant Park. Gotta go" she resumed.

"Okay. About lunch: Count on me, if we can find some time"

"Perfect... oh, Don? Will you call the catering, please?", she asked with a big, sweet, loving smile.

He shrugged, unable to resist her: "It's in my t_o-do-list. _I'll phone them later, even if the idea of calling so early to wake them up is really appealing..."

Jess laughed.

"Talk to you later", she turned to leave.

"Bye, detective!"

She simply waved at him without stopping.

In the lab, Danny was still analyzing prints and DNA.

"Messer, I'm bearing gifts!"

"Show me, show me, show me!", he begged.

"Gregory Buster, he lived on the Lex"

"Are we going to take a look?"

"What about Mac?"

"He was speaking with Sid... he already has some autopsy results. Gun shot was confirmed as COD"

"Okay. Let's go"

"I'm behind you"

The traffic was jammed: "I hate driving between eight am and... the end of the day"

"I told you I could drive"

"You?", Flack raised an eyebrow, glancing curiously at his passenger.

"Yeah, me. Any problems?"

"Not with you. It's just your _I know a shortcut which will take us there in a blink of an eye. _Last time you said that, we almost got lost..."

"it happened only twice!"

"Considering it was the third time I let you drive..."

"Manhattan is changing so fast..."

"And we're not getting younger..."

"Uh?", Danny looked at Flack with a shocked expression.

"So, it wasn't just one of your wise and resigned monologues"

"You're really in a bad mood, today!", he snickered.

"I didn't have breakfast"

"A crime against humanity!", Danny joked.

"Thank god we're here", they left the car and walked to the late Buster's house. Inside the hall, there was a doorman waiting for them.

"Detective Flack and detective Messer, NYPD", they showed their badges, "We're here to check Gregory Buster's apartment"

The doorman, a kid who was in his early twenties, stared at the badges for some seconds, unsure and a little worried. Then he grabbed the passe-partout and pointed at the elevator: "Please, follow me, I'll bring you upstairs"

Don let the young man press the forth floor button before speaking.

"When you saw mister Buster last?"

"Something happened to him?"

The two detectives shared a look.

"I... I don't really know... a week ago, maybe. He comes and goes very discreetly"

"Really?"

"Yes"

With a loud "BLING" the elevator stopped. The floor, like the hall, was very classy and tidy. It was clearly an elegant complex.

"Have you received any complaints against him?"

"Complaints?"

Danny sighed: "Yeah... from other tenants"

"No. He was a little mysterious and grumpy, to be honest, but it was expected..."

"Expected? Why?", it was clear the doorman needed to be pushed to go on.

"I started worked here only few weeks ago, but I have been told that mister Buster's wife died in a car accident... well, here we are"

He opened the door and made room for the detectives.

"Do you need something else?"

"Not right now, thank you. But I may need to talk to you again before we leave"

"No problem. I'll be downstairs"

"Thank you", Flack stared at the boy for a while, noticing the way his shoulders were slumped forward. Then, he followed Messer inside the apartment.


	5. Chapter 04: Chez Monsieur Buster

**Chapter 04: Chez Monsieur Buster**

A quick glance and they knew: The apartment wasn't their crime scene. All rooms were in neatly order and there were no signs of forced entry.

Danny sighed, disappointed, while moving around. "Nothing..."

"What if our killer took his time to clean everything?"

The CSI glared at Flack for a long minute.

"C'mon! It was just a joke! You used to be funnier, you know? By the way, let's check this house"

Danny didn't answer, but Don noticed he was already putting the latex gloves on to examine the little pile of mail scattered around a crystal table: "Bill, ads... oh, a card! _Greetings from France. _Nothing out of the ordinary..."

Flack, too, was glancing around, but even his trained eye couldn't catch something specific and weird. He looked in the sink: "Nothing in here... table is clean, too. No dirty plates, no crumbs and...", using a handkerchief he pushed his fingers against a cabinet which opened with a click showing the dishwater, "... nothing to wash"

Danny was curious: "How did you know the wash was hidden there?"

He answered without stopping to check the room: "You learn a lot of things by spending your free days buying furniture"

The CSI smirked: "So, the house is in order, the dishes are all washed, nothing is suggesting that something has happened..."

"It looks that Buster left like any normal day... did Sid tell something about the hour of death?"

"Not to me"

"What do we know? His sister filled a missing report two days ago"

"A week has passed since the doorman saw him for the last time... you okay? You seem thoughtful..."

"Nothing... it's only... I don't know. He disappeared, and his sister is the only person who got worried? Nobody else? I understand, he wanted to be left alone – if the deceased wife's story is true – but..."

"It doesn't have much sense, you're right... not a single friend, nobody? That's sad. What was his job?"

Flack took Buster's file and opened it. He scanned rapidly the words: "He was a proof-reader at _Brooks & Sons, _a publishing company"

"Did he work from home?"

"Your guess is mine"

"Well, I'll take a look at the bedroom"

"I'll call the techs; his PC is going to be taken to the lab"

"Adam will be thrilled... are you planning to swamp him?"

"Pardon?"

"You know... this way he'll have less time to spend with your sister"

"Aren't you headed to the bedroom?", Flack grunted, dialing the precinct number. After giving some orders, he joined Danny: "Let me guess: everything is normal"

Messer was standing in front of the closet, looking at some elegant shirts. Flack stepped closer: "They're not coming from a mall. See? They're tailored and personalized", he pointed to a G. and a B. knit with care.

"Is the typical dress code for the a proof-reader?"

Flack frowned: "I don't think so"

Looking around, Don noticed a basket: Inside, he saw a couple of cheaper shirts and a pair of jeans.

"Something happened..."

"Really, Sherlock? He has been killed"

"Danny, please... he has a closet full of elegant suits, but he's using more casual clothes"

"The elegant ones were maybe only for the formal occasions"

"A whole closet?"

"Bah, I don't get it: Why dressing so elegant? You just need to be clean and in order, no?", Danny looked at Flack to seek confirmation, but noting his dark gray suit and his blue tie he knew the colleague wasn't about to agree. He dropped the topic: "I'll take some shots. Maybe we'll be lucky"

"Have you seen these?"

On the desk, there was a bunch of letters and photos. Before moving them, Danny took a picture.

"A beautiful woman... maybe the wife?", the CSI turned upside the picture portraying a young red-headed woman. On the backside someone had written: _Hampton, July 2008._

"A beautiful house, a famous holidays spot, classy clothes, a charming wife... he had a great life"

"And he lost everything"

"Hey, look at this!"

Half-buried under some letters there was a simple white paper. A printed sentence in the middle of it read: _Where were you when your world has ended?_

"Huh? Is it an ad?"

"I don't think so. There's no numbers, no logos. I'll take it to the lab, just to be sure"

"Let's hope all these evidences are _real_ evidences..."

A loud ring interrupted them: "Mac? We're getting finished. No, all right, we'll meet you there", Danny put the phone in the pocket and took off the gloves, "Autopsy is done"

"Good. Let's leave. I need to talk to the doorman first"

"Okay... let's go"

They left, closing the door. They went downstairs: the kid was waiting for them, his complexion still pale.


	6. Chapter 05: Steve Lortz

_A/N: Thank you, readers! You're making this "adventure" very beautiful. _

**Chapter 05: Steve Lortz**

The doorman, whose name was Steve Lortz, was just a college student, working only part-time. Hearing about Buster's death made him shiver and almost collapse. He needed water and deep breaths to feel ready to answer Flack's questions.

"So you last saw the victim a week ago", Don was writing down on his memo-book.

"Yes"

"What time was it?"

"I... I don't know... last week I was working the afternoon shift, so... I guess... six or seven"

"Did you notice something weird?"

"Weird?"

"Like his behavior, his appearance..."

"Uhm... he was elusive, as usual, he greeted me fast, walking away... there was a strange thing though"

"Which was...?", Danny intervened. He couldn't understand why the kid was wasting so much time. Everybody knew how police questioning worked since every TV channel had its own cop show.

"His clothes"

Flack didn't comment, hoping that the young man would start talking without pushing. It worked.

"I haven't worked there for a long time, but I've always seen Mister Buster wearing... huh... very casual clothes. The other day, instead, he was very elegant. He had a tailored suit and also a pair of cufflinks"

"Do you know about fashion, don't you?"

"Well... I'd like to be a designer", he laughed nervously, looking away.

Flack finished writing.

"Didn't he have a suitcase, a bag, something else?"

"No"

"And when you haven't seen him anymore you thought it was quite normal"

"No... well, a little. I've tried to say something to miss Trudy, the landlady, but her only reply was that mister Buster liked better to be left alone, undisturbed"

"Because of his wife's death"

"I know no details, but I know her name was Melissa and she died in a car accident a year ago. If I had the story right, mister Buster was the one driving the car"

Flack and Danny looked at each other silently: _He stated he knows nothing, but in reality... _

"Well, it's enough for now. Of course, I'd like to have a chat with the landlady too..."

"She isn't there at the moment. She'll be there in the afternoon. She owns another building and spends her time between the two properties"

"So, we'll do it this way: I'll give you my card and you'll give me the address of the other building"

"Problem is I don't know the address...", Steve's eyes escaped the detective's glance.

"A phone number?"

"No"

"At what time will she arrive?"

"I don't know... past... five?"

"Are you asking _me_?"

Danny smirked. Steve blushed.

"Five, five-thirty"

"Good. Thank you for your cooperation, Steve"

They followed Lortz outside the building. The detectives reached their car. A few seconds before getting in it, Flack turned toward the doorman: "Steve, I'm sure that by the time you'll be back inside you'll miraculously find miss Trudy's phone number. Please, don't warn her. I just love the surprise effect"

The journey to the lab was relatively calm.

"Do you think he's hiding something?"

"Who? _Project Runway's _next contestant? He almost had a heart attack while talking about the landlady... probably she doesn't want people to look into her business"

"Illegal affairs?"

"Everything's possible. Point is: Can I have a case inside another case? And I don't want to think about Rodriguez; I can swear he's lying"

"This is what happened when you answer a call"

"Do I have any alternatives? If I don't pick up, it goes on ringing and ringing"

"Just imagine your honeymoon in Europe..."

"The Captain has already told us he's going to call every now and then to keep us informed about cases"

"Truthfully, I don't think you should complain. We'll be missing two homicide detectives for three long weeks"

"How are you going to cope?"

"I think we'd survive"

"Of course. Who's going to investigate otherwise?"

Danny shook his head, smiling: "Do you think the autopsy is going to tell us something more?"

"But you're still alive!", Flack laughed.

"Funny... Buster's autopsy"

"It'll have some meaning to _you_, you're a genial lab rat. I just need something about the murder weapon... a caliber, a bullet... we still don't have our crime scene... it's depressing"

"Well, we're here, so put a smile on your face. Mac's waiting for us"

Once the car was parked they headed to the lab. But at the last moment Flack turned right.

"What now?"

"I need to eat something. My sugar level is dangerously low"

"I'll go to see Mac"

"You want nothing?"

"Linds says that junk food will kill me in a long, painful way..."

Flack laughed, murmuring _so_ _whipped, _and proceeded to buy something from the vending cart.


	7. Chapter 06: The talking dead

_A/N: So, CBS canceled CSI: NY... so sad... I just hope this beautiful fandom will survive._

_I'm not a doctor. Please, forgive my eventual medical inaccuracies. Thank you._

**Chapter 06: The talking dead**

Flack was speeding to Taylor's office, still gulping down his sandwich, when Danny stopped him by tapping on the glass of the lab.

"What?"

"Mac is waiting for you in the morgue"

Don wasn't happy: "Wait... Why do I have to go to the morgue?"

"I'm analyzing some traces and I can't leave and, as we have earlier agreed, you were eager to talk to our dear pathologist", Danny concluded smiling, clearly mocking his friend.

"Messer, you do know I have just eaten a sandwich with peppers, anchovies, mustard and tomatoes..."

"Oh, how listless! I should do something for my memory", he was still laughing.

"You'll pay for this, I don't know where, when and how, but you'll pay"

"Now I'm scared", Danny grinned going back to the evidence.

Flack sighed and, using the elevator, reached the morgue. Obviously he didn't have a problem with dead bodies; it was the smell that didn't sit well with him. It was a nauseating mix of decay, filth and corporal fluids. But the most absurd thing was how Hammerback was at ease in the place.

The first thing he noticed was the chilling cold. _Like a grave. _He shivered slightly, hoping the digestion of the sub wouldn't be compromised. _You're so dead, Danny Messer..._

His two coworkers were lovingly talking at the two sides of the corpse like it was the most normal thing to do. They really seemed engrossed and almost in eternal – _eternal, sic! - _love with the body. _Science people..._

"Here I am"

"Good... come closer, he won't bite you"

Flack did as he was told, even if he kept a certain distance. He looked at Sid, waiting for him to start.

"COD is gunshot wound. Enter hole on the chest, exit hole on the back. The diameter suggests a high caliber, maybe a .50. As you can see", he pointed to the wound, "There are little burns around it, a sign indicating he was hit at short distance"

"Sorry, Sid, I'm here to play the ignorant one, so I'm asking you: Is it possible he shot himself?"

"Mhh... the angle excluded the possibility. And I haven't found any traces of gun powder on his shirt or hands"

"Why do you think at suicide? Something at his home?"

"Not really. Yes, his wife is dead and he seemed to be depressed, but... just wild guessing"

Mac raised an eyebrow without commenting. It was enough to trigger a reaction from Flack.

"I know! It's just... we have nothing! No murder weapon, no crime scene, no suspects, no motive... and I know I sound like Messer right now, but you're right: We're spending too much time together", he took a breath, "Okay, doc, you can go on. Sorry", Flack concluded, sounding a little frustrated.

Sid smiled, putting his glasses back on. "The shot shattered the aorta, killing him rapidly and with little pain. The internal organs are normal", Hammerback skimmed through the pages of his report, "Organs were in good conditions – color, dimension, weight, all normal – he didn't smoke. No evident physical problems, he was only a little underweight"

"Stress, depression?"

"Probably... but, I repeat, no illnesses or anomalies"

"Was he taking meds?"

"The toxicology is negative"

"Have you found medical prescriptions?"

Flack shook his head: "No. Just plain meds everybody has: Aspirin, gauze, band-aids, ointments. You know, my med cabinet is more furnished"

"Sid, something else we need to know?"

"Nothing relevant under the nails, but I found this in the chest wound", the doctor gave Mac a little plastic box containing a dark shred.

Taylor took it and look at the little piece carefully: "It could come from the blanket the body was in. Thank you, Sid"

"And considering he was on the ground, I brushed his hair before washing it. This is what I collected", Mac studied it, "It seemed soil..."

"From the crime scene?", Flack sounded very hopeful.

"Maybe it's time for us to start being lucky... Sid?"

"That's all. His clothes are there. The final report will be send to you asap"

"Good", Mac grabbed the bag with Buster's clothes, "Thank you, doc"

"_Nema problema, _detectives. Don? It was great to see you, you're barely here...", he gave a little sigh, "By the way, say hello to Jessica and, please, tell her the orange-flavoured sugared almonds are the best"

Flack smiled, tilting his head: "I'm not down here often because you know...", he moved his hands, gesturing to the corpses waiting to be autopsied, "Don't worry: I'll let Jess know". Leaving, Flack wondered how Sid could thinking at food in a place like that. Though a happy thought formed in his mind: His lunch had stayed with him.


	8. Ch 07: Two pieces from the same puzzle

_A/N: Why not complicating things a little? ;)_

**Chapter 07: Two pieces from the same puzzle**

"Flack!", Don roared accepting the call without checking the ID.

"Okay, I'll call you later"

"No, wait! Sorry... I'm not mad at you. I've just finished talking to our catering chef..."

"Do I want to know another problem about my wedding planning?", Jess's voice sounded slightly nervous and worried. It was unusual for her, but they were talking about their wedding, a big day.

"You must. The chef, a person full of attitude and more than ready to give suggestions I don't need, is convinced that a simple big dish of sliced beef on every table is going to be a problem"

"And why?"

"_Detective! That's raw meat, ugly to be shown! You wouldn't want to disgust your guests, wouldn't you! Maybe, you and your bride-to-be are fine with truculent scenes but the others are not!", _Flack was mimicking perfectly the cook's piercing voice.

"Maybe he's assuming we're planning to paint the walls with blood and similar things... you know, we're tough detectives "

"Yeah... By the way, after a tiring negotiation, here's the deal: Yes to the sliced beef, but every guest is going to be served his own portion – three slices and the most raw parts are going to be hidden under mountains of arugola leaves"

"Is this the final compromise?", Jess was surprised: Her fiance was usually unmoving about his food choices.

"I know, I know, it doesn't sound like me at all... but I have an unresolvable case, I have just left the annoying landlady of Buster's house and I'm driving to the publishing company, but the road is blocked..."

"A perfect day, huh?"

He snorted: "What about you? Your DB?"

Jess's answer was bitter: "A girl has been killed with a single shot to the chest. Then, she was left on a street without documents and..."

"... no..."

"What?"

"No documents, and let me guess, the place where you found her wasn't the place where she had been killed"

"How did you know?"

"Jess, there are at least two points in common with my case"

"Could it be a coincidence?"

"I stopped believing in coincidences ages ago. Inform Stella, and tell her to call Mac"

"We have a problem, haven't we?"

"Yeah... a great day, a great job, a great life... wait, someone is calling me", Don look at the screen, "Our dear chief. What is he finding unpleasant now? Not answering him"

"If he has the nerve to call me I'll do the same as you. He's hating us, you know..."

"Well... he's not one of my favorite people either. You calling Stella?"

"Of course. But, really, maybe it's just a coincidence"

"Jess, was your victim wrapped in a dark blanket?"

"..."

"That's wonderful. I'll see you later. I guess we have to work together"

"Later"

Flack ended the call, sighing. He didn't want to be anxious – he wasn't the type – but he didn't like a bit the idea of dealing with a potential serial killer. During last serial killers' chasing, members of the team have always risked to be seriously wounded, or worst, _and I can't stand it anymore._ He also knew that, in no time, the press would start the usual campaign against the NYPD. _And the lovely mister Dunbrook is going to be the leading man, and I don't want to talk to him. _Following the slow traffic course, Flack was imaging the future problems they were going to face, adding to the mix the slight but present opposition from Sinclair. Even if he was the Chief he always seemed to disapprove Mac's moves and ideas. And he couldn't forget that his wedding was getting closer and closer and there were still tons of things they had to do. Waiting in front of the umpteenth red light, Flack grabbed his phone texting fast: _Las Vegas. We can still do it. _Few minutes later he received the answer: _The idea of seeing you dressed as Elvis is really intriguing, but what are we going to do with our families? They're going to kill us! _There were no solutions, but Jess's text at least made him smile.

The publishing company _Brooks and Sons _was located in a typical New York skyscraper. Flack reached the right floor using a transparent elevator built to make people admiring the magnificent skyline. The young receptionist looked at his badge excitedly but didn't cause any problems, calling the director almost immediately.

"Detective Flack, NYPD", Don extended his hand, studying the man in front of him. _He looks normal, no negative vibe from him... perfect._

"Mark Gander... please, let's talk in my office", the man shook the detective's hand. His office, medium dimension with a big window in front of the Park, was similar to other offices seen during the years.

"So, how can I help you, detective?"

Flack arched his eyebrow, slightly confused: It was seldom rare to witness someone so willing to help the police.

"I'm here for Gregory Buster"

"Something happened?"

"He was found dead last night. Gunshot wound"

Gander was speechless for a little while. It was clear the news shocked him.

"It can't be... are you sure he was him?"

The detective said nothing, he just put some pictures on Gander's desk. Apart the lack of color and the rigidity in his expression, Buster looked almost asleep.

"That's him... so sad. Till a year ago, Greg was full of life: He worked here as proof-reader but he wrote short articles and ran a fun column, too... he was good, really good, he was gifted. He had it, you know? But he didn't want to become an author, oh no, he was just happy with what he had. He was funny, kind, he knew how livening up the place, you know? But in a tragic day..."

"The accident where his wife died"

"Yes", the director closed his eyes, reflecting, "We devoted to her a little space in one of our periodic. Would you like to see it? It's among the copies I keep in my archive."

Flack nodded observing Mark moving around the room. He saw him opening a drawer. While looking at him, he put his right hand on the holster. _He doesn't seem dangerous, but better be safe than sorry. _But Gander truly didn't have bad intentions. He sat back in front of Flack, giving him a single paper: "Please, take a look"

The title, _Melissa Buster, the angel went back to the Paradise, _was printed above Melissa and Gregory's wedding photo. _So classic... an easy way to make people cry and sell copies. Probably they didn't even know her deeply._

"It was just a tragic accident, you know? Greg suddenly fell asleep while driving, his alcohol level was zero. He started changing from that day; he started staying alone, he was sad, morose. He started losing work days... but I didn't want to fire him. So, his only task was proof-reading. He worked from home, sending his job by mail. It was still okay, even if it lacked brilliance. He had a deadline in a couple of days"

"Did you talk to him often?"

"At all. Between consignments he kind of disappeared. I didn't want to be too meddler... maybe I should have been"

Flack shrugged: He knew perfectly how some things went. _Samantha, my dear Sammie._

"I guess you don't know if he was seeing someone, if he had some friends?"

"Before... you know... he was full of friends, but after... he closed the world outside, he looked unreachable"

Without expecting it, the day of the shooting came to Flack's mind. He had spent days at the hospital, waiting for Jess to feel better, and he hadn't talked a single time to Mac or Danny, event if his two friends had been there for him. _And Jess survived. What if... _he shook his head, averting the director's eyes for a moment.

"By the way, this is my card. Feel free to call me if you remember something else"

"Sure", Gander stood up and shook warmly Flack's hand. Than he pushed the intercom: "Stacy, would you accompany detective Flack outside? Thank you"

On the street, Don checked his phone. There was a new text: He was awaited in the lab for a briefing. He sighed, the day was far from its end.


	9. Chapter 08: Briefing

_A/N: A special thanks to GeorgeAndrews. Your constant support is meaning a lot. Thank you._

**Chapter 08: Briefing**

A bitter comment broke the tense silence of the room:

"Pizza was the only positive thing"

Six pairs of eyes turned toward the voice.

"What? Lunch was long time ago..."

"This is the reason why you ate like there was no tomorrow?"

"Partly... other reason being I'm frustrated"

A long resigned sigh went through the room. Flack was right: Two homicides and no solid leads to follow. And no one liked the idea of someone out there organizing undisturbed another killing.

Stella studied her notes: "Let's sum up what we have: Two victims, a man and a woman, they didn't know each others and didn't have similar hangouts. The only common point is the death of someone they loved happened a year ago. They've been killed with a high caliber gun. The bodies, wrapped in a dark blanket, have been dumped far from the crime scene. In both houses we have found a sheet with the question _Where were you when your world has ended? p_rinted on it. On the paper there was no numbers, other words or references. We're still analyzing the paper and the ink, but they seem to be common. We took the victims' laptops and Adam is checking the files"

"Right now nothing abnormal. No strange contacts, no mysterious mails, no dangerous web sites... just normal traces of everyday surfing and more than normal files"

"Okay. Am I forgetting something?"

"The cell phones"

"We didn't find them, so I'm not forgetting them"

Stella ended and the rest of the group went back to their own notes. Some minutes later, Jess noticed Flack staring kind of blankly in front of him, a thoughtful expression etched on his face.

"Hey...", she lightly slapped his arm, "Pizza was too much?"

He blinked, frowning a little: "No, just thinking about a thing..."

"Is something case-related or is it about the wedding of the year?"

"It's about the question"

"What question?"

"_Where were you... _Have you never asked yourself this question? Maybe, using other words, but..."

Hawkes and Danny stared at each other, shaking their heads. The girls too appeared confused. Mac simply kept his unreadable expression.

"You have?"

"Well... I have. Don't look at me that way!", Flack raised the voice.

"Care to elaborate?"

At that moment Lindsay entered, holding some photographs. Don glanced briefly at her, but she let him go on.

"Okay... it wasn't exactly in these terms, my world hasn't ended, but if the question would be _Where were you when your world has almost ended? _I can answer it. Without even thinking"

Angell tilted her head looking intensely at him: "The bomb?"

He shook his head with a strange smile on the lips: "2009, May the 20th, Mount Sinai hospital, seated in front of the OR"

Jess, without realizing, reached out and squeezed his hand. Flack looked at her, looking embarrassed.

"It's a good intuition"

"But, as you said, only an intuition. We don't have any evidence, unless our Linds has discovered something"

"Your Linds detected a partial foot print on victim number one's blanket. I calculated 7.5, male, and the sole is the sole of a flip-flop"

"What? This case is becoming more and more absurd... Weren't witnesses talking about boots?"

Flack nodded: "Yeah, but I know a person who was wearing flip-flops"

"Classy!"

"You can say it... not case-solving, but I'm satisfied", Don was smiling one of his arrogant smiles.

"Satisfied?"

"The flip-flops owner swore he didn't go near the body"

"He's a suspect, then!"

"No, Adam, William Rodriguez's ID is smaller than a nut, he can't be our killer. But I'd love to have a little talk with him", Flack stood, gulping down his remaining water.

"Do you know where to find him?"

"_Claro que si_, as he would say. You know I can smell lies from miles. Detectives..."

"Call you later"

"Copy that", Flack closed the door behind him.

Stella sighed: "It's not a bad intuition"

"It could take us somewhere", Mac's comment surprised the team: Normally he only relied on evidences.

"It's humane nature", _and I can answer the same question, too. I didn't immediately think at him, it's been too long, but Don is still affected, _"Let's give it a try. Where were our victims when their world has ended?"

The group studied the newspaper articles Adam had previously printed. The journalists had written down all the details of the accidents.

"We have the addresses. Danny and Hawkes, you two go to the Franklin, at the crossroad with the 111th; Stella and Lindsay, you are going to the Madison. I'm going to stay here to coordinate. Jess, you..."

"I'm going with Flack, if that's okay"

Mac simply nodded and, waving, dismiss his team.

* * *

Flack was about to open the car door when Jess reached him with long strides: "Good, you're still here"

He stared at her, narrowing his eyes: "Any news?"

"No... well, Mac is sending the CSIS to the accident locations, but I'm going with you"

"Are they listening to me?"

"It's a good idea, if you stop and think at it"

"But it could be just useless...", Flack sounded downhearted.

"What is the alternative? Staying up there, analyzing evidences which are already analyzed, reading again the autopsy reports... what's the matter with you?"

Don shook his head: "Nothing, it's... uff... c'mon, let's get in the car"

"I'll drive", she stole the keys from him and, swiftly, entered the car, sitting in front of the wheel. Flack could only step around and take place in the passenger seat. Jess started the car and reached the street. At the second stop sign she decided it was the right moment.

"Don..."

"It's so absurd! We have two people, two individuals who – till a year ago – had friends and colleagues and relatives. These people has been described as funny, kind, full of life, and then, boom! - as Danny would say – this horrible thing happened. The person they love died under their eyes. And, little by little, their social web disappeared in the thin air. And I'm being told things like: _He preferred to be alone, he preferred not to be disturbed by anyone. _How is this possible? Buster had a sister and she was his only family and she called the police after days. Days! And you know why she called? It was the first anniversary of his wife's death and she tried to call him but he didn't answer. So she went to his house, knocked a couple of times. She left when he didn't open the door. Three days later and still no news, she called Missing Persons. How fucked is this world? And, icing on the cake, at least one person saw the corpse but didn't spare his precious time to give us a call. Everybody minding its own business", he had talked almost without taking a breath, sounding bitter and disappointed. Jess didn't like it, he didn't even seem her Flack.

She stopped the car.

"Jess...?"

She faced him and got hold of his hand: "The thing you said about the hospital... we never talked about it"

"I guess it never was the right moment. The surgery, closing the case, your family, the job, and then you were suddenly at home and we started talking about getting married, so..."

He fell silent, and for the first time Jess felt the frailty he used to cover under layers of strength and determination. Her love for him grow even deeper.

"If you add that our friend here uses a .50"

"It's the "in" weapon...", he tightened the hold on her hand, stroking lightly the palm, "... sometime I wish I had a normal life with no dramas, but I know I'll miss the real fun", he managed a little smile.

"Without forgetting you wouldn't have met me"

His smile grew, "A true loss", he released her hand, "Better going. I guess Willy isn't excepting us yet"

She started the car again and drove away. Things would be sorted out, she was sure. _When we'll be surrounded by Irish heath we won't even remember this case..._

* * *

_You know, this story revolves around Flack so he was the one to have the great intuition... _


	10. Chapter 09: Unmasking Ramirez

**Chapter 09: Unmasking Ramirez**

"Here we are"

Angell took a look around, closing the door: "What a nice neighborhood!"

"Elegant, isn't it? It suits our friend's clothing"

The entrance door was broken so they found no obstacles in getting in.

"So hospitable!"

They took the stairs and walked till Ramirez's apartment.

Flack knocked: "Mister Ramirez? NYPD"

No noises came from the inside.

Don tried again, using more strength: "Mister Ramir...", the door, only juxtaposed, opened slightly.

The two detectives glanced at each other and took hold of their Glocks. Then, Flack entered with Jess in toe. The house seemed empty but the duo walked carefully and slowly.

There were two more rooms aside the living room. Flack moved toward the bedroom. The problem was, and he had always known it, the blind side. Hawkes was certainly the best person for a detailed explanation but the result wasn't different: Flack's eyes weren't able to see a little spot and that could be very dangerous. So, when Angell screamed: "Flack!", he exactly knew which way to turn.

Ramirez, standing behind him, hiding in the damn blind side, was swinging a metal bar, aiming at his head. Flack swiftly grabbed his wrist, moving away, and twisted the other man's arm behind his back, forcing him to drop the bar. Few seconds later a quite offended Ramirez was handcuffed.

"You're not well mannered, are you? No, don't say anything, I don't want you to feel I'm violating one of your sacrosanct rights", Flack commented while escorting Ramirez downstairs. Once he was in the car, the detective's phone started ringing.

"Flack"

"We've found the crime scenes. You were right"

He arched his eyebrows, smirking lightly: "Oh, everything has a sense now"

"What?", Danny's voice sounded confused.

"Ramirez waiting for me with a metal bar... that was my prize, right?"

Danny chuckled: "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm agile, he missed me. You at the lab?"

"No, we're still collecting evidences and – boom! - this is a .50 caliber case. Life is good"

"You own me a drink"

"Once the case is closed", statics disturbed the conversation.

"Hey... I'm losing you... see you later", he hung up.

Jess was looking at him, a question in her eyes.

"We have the primary crime scenes. Let's go", he eyed Ramirez, sulking on the seat, "You ready for a little trip?"

* * *

"Is that him?"

"I know, he doesn't look dangerous"

"A metal bar..."

"Good bless his reflexes..."

"So, he was waiting for you"

"Probable. When you have done lots of illegal things you just know someone is going to knock at your door sooner or later", Flack had joined them, holding the pictures from the crime scene. "I go. You stay here watching?"

"You know your interrogations are better than a police movie", snickered Jess.

"And we still don't have anything from the scenes. I've sent Adam home to get some rest, so he'll be ready later"

"Detective Angell, may I ask you the same request?"

She shrugged: "You could. But I won't accept, you know"

Don stared at her: "C'mon! If I were you..."

She laughed: "Don't you dare to lie! Maybe only William hitting you would put you to sleep for a while"

"Okay, guilty... I go to talk to Ramirez. Mac?"

"I'll go with a surprise entrance"

Flack opened the door and, as calmly as possible, strode in the room and sat in front of the man. Ramirez was kind of leaning forward and his little eyes were roaming nervously through the room. The detective waited a little before speaking; he was a tactic to make the perp's tension grew.

"I hate three things: Cockroaches, rotten food and liars. Take a guess: Which is the group you belong to?"

"I am not a _mentiroso"_

"Good, so you are a cockroach"

Ramirez snorted, annoyed: "Detective, I didn't stepped next to the body"

Don leant forward lowering the voice: "William, let me tell you a secret. The problem is not you, you know? You tell me you didn't do it and I'm inclined to believe you, but... in this same building there are some people who don't trust words. They only trust evidences. Shocking, huh? And evidences are saying that someone wearing a pair of flip-flops, size eight, stood by the victim. And you own those flip-flops, we've found them in you house", Don showed Ramirez a picture with the half bloodied print.

"So what? Tons of people have it!"

At that precise moment Mac stepped in. He nodded almost imperceptibly to Don who let him speak.

"You're right, but yours have the victim's blood on it"

Flack hinted at Taylor: "Here you have one of those scientists who believe only in evidences... guess you're in trouble, _amigo"_

William huffed, rolling his eyes: "_Vale. _I went close to the body, so where's the problem?"

"He doesn't see the problem, Mac. He found a corpse, he stepped close, he contaminated the scene, he left unnoticed, he lied but he doesn't see the problem"

Mac shook his head: "Everyone has a different value system"

"What could I do? He was dead!"

"Mhh... I don't know... call 911?", Flack tilted his head, "Of course, than you'd have to explain this...", Flack went trough a couple of pages of the report ha had in front of him, "... you've just ended a short but, I'm sure, happy period of detention in the Connecticut State Prison for drug possession, traffic and weapon smuggling. Very interesting... and adding the guns without serial number found in your apartment we can safely assume that a leopard cannot change its spots"

Ramirez got angry: "How do you dare to search my house?"

"Your warm welcome?", Don sighed.

"So, William", intervened Taylor, "why were you on the crime scene?"

"Just checking if the poor guy was still alive"

Flack started writing on a paper.

"Let's try it again: Which was the _real _reason why you were on the scene?"

"Why... what is he writing down?"

"Me? Oh, nothing... I'm just listing some probable accusations. You know what? I've already found five of them and I'm not even a DA... William..."

"Okay, I immediately saw he was dead, so I checked his pockets looking for a cell or a wallet. There was nothing and I left. End of the story. Can I go now?"

Flack burst laughing: "You should become a comedian! Of course you can go, officer Smith will show you your brand new room without a view. You're gonna spend a nice stay in there"

"I didn't kill him!"

"It's not the only crime I see there..."

"Not fair!"

Flack stood: "Look, it's not my fault you decided to do the _Prison Tour_... officer, please, escort mister Ramirez outside"

* * *

The detectives met Jess in the corridor: "Wow..."

"He's not our killer but at least he's off the streets"

"You can say it... ah, Buster's sister is here"

"I'll go to talk to her. See you later"

Don put his jacket on. It was almost dawn: _24 hours and we still have no suspects. We have to do something soon._


	11. Chapter 10: Sisters

_A/N: A quite sad chapter, I know..._

**Chapter 10: Sisters**

"Mrs Lisak?"

The woman shook the detective's hand. Her grip was firm yet unsure: "Sandra, please"

Flack nodded: "Sandra... I'm detective Flack and I'm working your brother's case", he pointed to a chair in front of his desk, "Please, take a seat"

She heavily sat down with a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry for your loss"

"You don't know who... who killed Greg?", Don couldn't help but admire her. She was trying to be strong even if she was clearly on the verge of breaking down.

"No", a little pause, "Maybe you can tell me how your relationship was"

"I guess you know about Melissa...", another nod, "... they were a beautiful couple, she was a great woman. And he was my little brother...", she lowered her head, trying to hide a tear, "I'm sorry..."

Don handed her a tissue: "No need to apologize. We can take a break if you need it"

He hated these things. He hated when innocents suffered and hurt. He thought at Samantha, at how he had felt after seeing her at the AA meeting. _I need to call her, need to see she's fine_.

"I... I'd like to see him, if it's possible"

The detective stood: "Of course, please follow me", he gently took hold of one of her elbows, steering her to the right direction.

* * *

They stood for a few seconds behind the obituary glass. Buster's corpse, composed and tucked under a white blanket, laid on a gurney. From their position, he almost looked asleep.

"I know what you're thinking... _what a bad sister! _It's not I didn't love him and I'm not looking for excuses but can you realize how hard is to be near someone who doesn't want you to do it? I tried anything after Melissa's death; I also lived with him for a while, fighting with my husband Peter, but Greg... nothing. It was like he had disappeared. And he was so angry... as if it was his and _my_ fault. When I went back to my home we started phoning each other. He seemed more himself. He sounded almost okay, said he had found someone to talk to. Maybe he was only faking it... and now, look at him...", she turned her head toward Flack, "Do you think Mel's death could be the cause of this?"

"It's too soon to tell", he lightly squeezed her shoulder, "You're free to go in if you're up to it"

Sandra weakly nodded and moved in the room. Flack stood outside, feeling like an intruder.

"The sister?"

"Doc..."

"Some cases just feed our guilty conscience"

Don frowned and studied Hawkes: "Are you planning to become a new Mac Taylor?"

"No, that's impossible... I lost my sister years ago"

The detective didn't comment, but he was surprised.

"Maya... she started taking drugs and an overdose killed her"

"Shel, I'm so sorry"

The other man shrugged, keeping his eyes on Sandra: She was caressing her brother's face.

"I knew what was happening and I tried to help her, but she avoided me. And then, it was easier to believe everything was okay"

"We all live in denial"

Flack's prophetic tone made Hawkes almost smile: "Now, who's the next Mac Taylor?"

Before the detective could reply, Mrs Lisak approached them.

"This is doctor Sheldon Hawkes; he works in the crime lab"

They shook hands. Sandra nodded, closing her eyes.

"Are you ready to answer some questions, now?", Flack gently asked. Sandra nodded following him meekly.

* * *

Interrogation rooms were one of Flack's elected places. There was something powerful in there, something which could scare perps. Maybe it was the cold low light, maybe the hard chairs or maybe the classic fake mirror. He didn't care; he just loved doing interrogations. But when he entered one with his victim's sister it felt really wrong. Even after leaving the door ajar and offering Sandra a cup of warm tea the situation wasn't better. He didn't suit him well, he felt like he was doing something immoral. He just hoped nobody would observe their chat trough the glass.

"Greg and me... Greg and me... some years ago our parents died in another stupid car accident. But I had my brother. He helped me getting through, staying strong for me. And then he met Melissa. You should have seen them together. They were meant to be a couple... can you understand it?"

For a second Jess's sweet smile flashed in Flack's mind. "Yes, I can"

"They were truly in love. We used to bet about who was going to be the first welcoming child... and now, I guess we have a winner, haven't we?"

A dark silence fell into the room. Flack swallowed a couple of times, mutely counted till ten and then asked: "What could you tell me about the accident?"

"Just an accident. They had gone to the movies, to watch one the historical films they both adored, and, while driving home, Greg dozed off. The car slid, ending up in the river. Poor Mel drown. The police investigated but Greg's alcohol and drug level was zero. A tragic accident... and then, he became a different person"

"It's understandable", another flash, this time Jess lying on a pool of her own blood at _Tillery's_. He slightly trembled.

"In these last few months it was difficult to understand his feelings. Sometimes, he sounded really depressed, other times he was just sad, and others... almost _happy_"

"Did you tell anything?"

"Just he had known other people, people who knew his pain. But when he told me we were having a fight so I didn't press him further"

Silence again.

Sandra sighed: "Now I know how he was feeling. It all seems so unreal, like the life I've known as mine has suddenly finished and I'm engulfed in this new reality so different and alien, like I'm not me anymore. I'm blaming myself for all the fights we had. The mind... it never stops: What if I had kept him more company? What if I had spent more time talking to him, listening to him? Life... who could foresee these things?"

Another long, tired sigh. Flack thought it was really impossible to foresee the future and he was glad to have a second chance. _And only because Jess has fought._

"We can stop there, Sandra", Don stood. Sandra copied him.

"I wish I could have been more useful"

"Don't worry. You have my number: If you remember something – weird behaviors, names of new people in Greg's life, new habits – just call me. Even if you think it'll be a loss of time. We'll find the killer, it's a promise", _well – done, detective! Not a single suspect but you're making promises._

"Thank you", they shook hands. Flack watched Sandra slowly walking away.

Then he grabbed his phone, dialing a number: "Hey you! Everything's fine, you?", he shortly laughed, "Listen, I've couple of free hours, what about a coffee?", he listened to the answer and a smile broke up on his face, "Perfect... I'll see you in ten minutes"

He hang up and composed a text: "Jess, I'm having breakfast with Sammie. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Feel free to call me if you'll have news", then he put his coat on and left the precinct.


	12. Chapter 11: Breakfast with Samantha

_A/N: A huge thank to my new beta, Madison Bellow. Thank you! _

**Chapter 11: Breakfast with Samantha**

Samantha was seated on a table in the back of the diner, studying the menu while chewing on her fingers.

Flack grinned, in his mind appeared a younger Sammie with braids and bruised knees. "So... what's good to eat?"

The young woman looked at her brother, greeting him with a warm smile, "good morning! Mmmn... apple pancakes."

While the waitress was serving their first cup of coffee, Don took his time to read the menu. Sam looked at him carefully. "You look tired."

He dismissed her with a hand, hiding a yawn. "Nah..."

"We're lucky you are one of the good ones, but you're an awful liar!"

"Ha ha ha. Funny." He stared at her, "just a difficult case."

"I don't understand how you can live the way you do. Little sleep, no regular schedules and," she smiled fondly, "you're planning a wedding!"

"The wedding is the thing that's killing me! Balancing job and life is simple by now, you know? But the wedding, every day there's a new problem," Flack concluded with a sigh.

"You know I'm here for you, right? I'm your sister! Tell me what you need and I'll give you a hand. You and Jess are always busy!"

He stared at her, considering her words. "Would you really like to help us?"

"Are you kidding? You've found a good woman who actually wants to marry you, it'd be a crime if I didn't help you!"

"Thank you, I guess... well...", Flack started until the waitress interrupted them, ready to take their orders. "Okay... the winners are the apple pancakes. I'd also like scrambled eggs and OJ, not too cold, thank you," he called out as the waitress walked away.

"So, where were we? Food, flowers, the photographer, all confirmed. The problem is that each person involved is dying to give us suggestions we don't want. For example, the floral designer insists in putting apples, oranges and pears in the centerpieces. What for? We only want dark red roses and Gypsophila. But no, he just can't resist, what do we know? Then... what, what are you laughing at?"

Samantha couldn't help laughing, "you look like Miranda Priestley, you're scary. It's your wedding, not one of your drug busts. Relax! I'll take care of it."

Seeing his sister's amused expression, Don laughed, too. They ate in a comfortable silence for a while. Then Flack seemed to remember something."How are you, Sam?"

"Mostly good, thanks. Dad's still talking to me, mom's not crying every time she sees me..."

"Obviously. She too busy crying every time she sees _me_!_"_

"I like my new job, and Adam...", she stopped, blushing.

Flack pondered, murmuring, "do I need to know what Ross is doing with my little sister? Do I really really need to know?"

She slapped his arm, "c'mon! He's a good guy, give him some credit! You scare him more than dad!"

"That's the way it should be."

"I hate you!"

"Sammie, you're my sister. Okay, you're right, he's a good guy. But I'm keeping an eye on him, just in case."

"And he knows it. Seeing as we're talking about it, what did you say to him two days ago?"

Don arched his brows, "me?"

"We had a date, a dinner in that nice new restaurant, but he canceled. See? Now you're looking at me like you want to rip his head off. He didn't abandon me out in the cold rain, all alone. He called me to cancel, apologized and took me out the following day."

"And how is it my fault?"

"You two had lunch together, remember?"

Flack scratched his head, thinking and biting his lips. It was almost genetic the way she was questioning him.

"You're right, Messer was there too. Nothing happened, unless... oops!"

"I knew it! What did you tell him?" Samantha glared at him.

"Nothing. We were having a completely innocent conversation and I asked when you two started going out. I swear, he just panicked and started stuttering, telling me 'almost four months ago'_. _And so I said, just commenting without any hidden meaning, I swear, 'four months? So, you two are serious!'"

"You're clearly insane," Sam retorted.

He shook his head, looking pissed, "I'm insane? I wasn't out of line! He have known me for ages, he's one of the people who reconstructed the cell-detonator out of my insides and I can't joke with him? Do you want me to tell you in graphic details about the first time I met the Angell clan? I didn't tell him you should get married!"

Sam frowned, disgusted. "The cell-detonator out of your insides? Too much information, thank you," she said pushing away her half-eaten pancake. "Okay, nothing terrible happened. It's just you're scaring him so much yesterday he told me we should ask Detective Flack. I was shocked!"

"Really? How can he be scared of me?"

"Could we change topic, please?"

He chuckled, "alright. Besides, I'm not there to analyze your relationship with Ross. I'm just glad you're fine. And that you're going to help us." Don passed one of his hands over his tired eyes.

She touched his wrist, "I know you're not going to listen, but you should get some rest."

"I can't, not until this case is solved." He sounded serious and worried.

"That bad?" She knew what his answer would be, but asked anyway.

"It'll be if we don't do something soon."

Growing up in a family full of cops helped her to fill in the blanks. She swallowed, paling slightly, "there's more than one victim?"

"Sammie..." he warned.

"Sorry, I know you can't tell me. This city sucks."

He stood, leaving a couple of bills on the table. Then he bent to kiss her on the head,"it's not the city, just some of its inhabitants. Be careful, and call me if you need me."

"Don't worry, Donnie. I'll phone you when the florist and the others are back in their places, okay?"

He smiled: "Floral designer, Sam, floral designer. You're going to offend him, you know?"

She laughed, "oh no! Have a good day, Don, you'll get him, you always do."

He waved at her and left. Maybe Sam was right, after all, if there was no news, he was going to take a little nap.


	13. Chapter 12: Boom, connection

_A/N: A big thank to my beta, Madison Bellows. _

**Chapter 12: Boom, connection**

A note in Jess's handwriting was waiting for Flack on his desk:

_Hey, Detective!_

_The lab rats are back with tons of evidence. They're analyzing it and then there will be another briefing. Mac decided to organize some rest breaks in the meantime. You have the first one. I'll see you in the lab in a couples of hours, unless of course we'll solve the case sooner... ;P_

_Sleep tight,_

_Jess_

Flack definitely had to agree with his sister, he was so exhausted he didn't even have the strength to retort to Jess's half joke. Even his muscles were hurting from lack of sleep. First he took a hot shower, enjoying the water cascading against his tense back and shoulders. Then he stretched on one of the cots of the precinct's quiet breakroom. He was asleep in less than a second.

* * *

"Hey, Sleepyhead."

He turned, clenching the sheets around his body.

"Wake up."

He mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Detective Flack, it's officially requested you wake up. That is an order!"

"I'm up!" He sprang on the mattress, only to find Jess chuckling at him.

"That method always works!"

"Really amusing," he said, rubbing his eyes and stretching. "My break is over?"

"Yeah, it's my turn. Out off the bed, please."

He looked around, "Angell, there are five more free cots in here!"

"Yours is still warm."

He stood up, yawning. "If we were just coworkers you wouldn't try to force me to give you my bed!"

"If we were just coworkers I wouldn't agree to sleep with you at night," she shot back, winking at him.

"Point taken. So, having ascertained we're not just coworkers..." he bent slightly toward her form, already under the covers, and kissed the tip of her nose. "Sleep well." She smiled up at him as he left.

* * *

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!" Danny quipped with his patented smirk as he walked into the lab. Flack didn't say anything, he just raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever been in a good mood when you first woke up? Poor, poor Jess."

"Can we just discuss the case?"

"We analyzed the crime scenes and found some common elements: the murder weapon was a caliber .50 Desert Eagle in both case, the COD is the same and the fact that both victims were killed on the first anniversary of their beloved deaths."

"Anything in common with the victims?" Flack asked.

"Aside from them both dying? The paper with the weird question. They didn't know each other, they didn't live close to each other, their paths didn't even cross."

"Why were the bodies moved?"

"Still a mystery," Danny replied.

"Okay, traces, prints, a signed confession from the murderer?"

Danny smirked, "no. Bullets trace back to a weapon that apparently doesn't exist. We have checked all registered owners and they had an alibi. A solid alibi."

"All of them?"

"More or less and their guns haven't recently shot."

"That excludes the guns, not the owners."

"Would you like to read all their alibis?" Danny asked with a scowl.

"Thanks," Flack replied as Danny handed him a sheath of printouts.

"I didn't know having a weapon was so in!"

"It makes you feel cooler, huh?"

Flack didn't comment, engrossed in reading the list.

"It'd take you a lot of time if you start talking to everyone who owns a gun."

"I've got help... the suspect probably isn't on this list, though."

"Pardon?"

"Well, if I have to kill someone, I'd use a gun coming from the black market. And I don't think I'd like to be listed as a gun owner."

"What's this _if I have to kill someone _crap? I don't like you talking this way."

"C'mon, Mess, I was just thinking like the killer."

Danny snorted, "do me a favor, stop watching _Criminal Minds."_

"Danny, please..."

Adam chose that same exact moment to enter the room. "Ross! My favorite lab tech!"

"Your sister's too."

Flack glared at Danny who seemed not to notice it. Adam, instead, blushed furiously and looked at his shoes. Embarrassment was thick in the air.

After a couple of minutes a rather annoyed Flack broke the silence, "Adam, you here for a reason?"

"Y-Yes, Flack. I have the SIM printouts," he said, givingthe detective the list of calls. Flack rapidly scanned it.

"What's this number they both called so often?"

Danny stepped closer to take a look, "It looks like a toll free number."

"It is, it's a help hot line. You know, the numbers you call when you're depressed."

"Boom!"

"We know where this is?"

"Yes." Adam handed the detective the address.

"Manhattan, huh?" Flack glanced at Messer, who was smiling. "Coming with me?"

"Let's go. Adam, tell Mac we have a link between the victims!" Danny was practically bouncing around with this seeming break in the case.

"Someone must have drunk too much coffee," commented Flack.

"Someone else must have not," was Danny's simple reply.

* * *

The car drive was quiet till Flack's cell started ringing. He looked at the number and sighed, "Flack."

"Oh, Detective, finally!"

"Everything okay, Debra?" Still talking to the woman, Don mouthed _baker _in Danny's direction. The other laughed.

"Your sister Samantha called."

"That's all right. I've asked her to."

"Yes, but we have a problem with the wedding cake. Maybe your sister didn't understand your instructions..."

"Problem?" Flack sighed deep in his chest. Danny's laughter grew.

"Yes, problem. Miss Samantha told me you'd like to have _Berries Passion _but, you know, that's not possible."

"What does that mean? You don't bake it anymore?"

"No, that's not the matter, it's just, it's not a wedding cake!"

"Explain, please."

"You know, traditionally, wedding cakes must be made of soft sponge-cake, covered in white icing and with different levels. And the cake you chose_..." _Flack didn't say anything, trying to remain collected. "Detective, you're still there?"

"Yes, but really I can't see the problem."

"I can't bake the _Berries Passion! _It's hard shortcrust pastry, filled of berries, with no white icing!_"_

"Listen, I know the law pretty well and I can assure you you won't commit a crime if you'll bake it."

"But it's not a wedding cake!"

"Okay. Fact is my fiancee and I are in love with that cake. We'd like to eat one every day if possible. It's the first cake we ate together and we want it at our wedding. I promise you that if one of our guests will have some problems with it they won't get angry at you, okay?"

There was only a tense silence on the other side of the line. Danny was laughing so hard he was almost crying. "Debra?"

"It'd be difficult to cut it. It won't be very scenic in the photographs."

"But it'll be very scenic in our stomachs. Debra, that cake is fabulous, believe me. No wedding cake could ever beat it."

The woman sighed, defeated, "Okay, but I won't do this again. And you won't tell anyone," she admonished as she hung up.

Flack stared at the phone, "she hung up on me! And you, stop laughing, this is not funny!" Though he couldn't help but smile himself.

"Coming straight from _Mission: Impossible_."

"You and Lindsay did the right thing by eloping. I can't believe that the woman I'm paying hundreds of dollars to bake the cake doesn't want to bake it. She made me promise I won't tell anyone that at our wedding there won't be the classic wedding cake."

"Do we need to sign a security agreement?"

"I won't be surprised. Great, now I have a headache," Flack said as he kneaded his temples.

"Well ignore it, because we just got where we are going."

In front of them, the glass building stood still, as if awaiting their arrival.


	14. Chapter 13: The unhelp line

_A/N: Madison Bellows, thank you! You were really helpful._

**Chapter 13: The Unhelp Line**

The suicide helpline had one floor at its disposal. Inside, the atmosphere wasn't exactly what the two detectives were expecting, it all seemed too distant and aseptic. Sophia McFarland was waiting for them on the threshold of her office. Once they were inside she sat down dramatically on her chair, channeling her inner diva. Then, she looked at the two men, "so tell me, why are you here?"

Flack cleared his voice, "we'd like to know how the organization works."

The woman raised her eyebrows before replying. "I plan the schedules, manage donations and deal with the red tape. We also have volunteers."

"Volunteers?" Danny sounded disappointed.

"Yes, they're unpaid, not official employees. They're just people who devote their time helping others."

"Do you have a list, maybe?"

McFarland pursed her lips, "well, I have a list, but I'd like to protect their privacy. It's a trust issue. But I have no problems confirming that no one has broken the law and that is enough for me."

"They don't need any special qualifications?" Flack was incredulous.

The woman laughed, stopping immediately at Flack's grim expression. "Detective, if I looked only for people with a psychology degree I'd have nobody answering the phones."

"How do you train the volunteers to give the correct answer? If someone really desperate calls, how do they know what to do?"

"Our primary support is listening. Lots of people call us only to vent. If one of the volunteers feels that someone needs more help he'll give him one of our associated psychologists' number." There was something in the way she rattled off this information that made it seem like she was reciting from a script.

"That's very interesting, and let me guess, the psychologists you just mentioned are also your top donors?"

Sophia tilted her head, "I'm starting to dislike this conversation."

Danny smirked, his head shaking, and got ready for one of Flack's sarcastic comments.

"I don't think you're in the position to set the rules. We have asked you your volunteers' names, nicely, and you refused. Plus, we've just discovered you don't need a degree to work here. The only real support is from your well-paid psychologists. You're managing this place like it's a call center, but you're not selling products, you're dealing with people who are ready to give up their life!"

Danny furrowed his brow, slightly confused. He hadn't expected such an outburst from his friend. He intervened, "what my partner is trying to say is that we have two unsolved murders and the only link between them is this number. And it's frustrating not finding help in a helpline." He concluded with a charming smile.

The woman stood, "fine, but I don't see the need for him to be on his high horse!" She gestured at Flack before turning back to Danny, "please, be discreet."

Flack still didn't back down. "Do you realize you're talking to police officers? We're not here to play spies. Give us their names, phone numbers and addresses. Something else we need to know?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. What if I call you? I guess there's a switchboard to route the calls." Flack was starting to get really annoyed.

"Yes, and then the first free operator picks up."

"What if I had already called other times and I'd like to speak with a particular operator because I feel closer to them?"

"That's not possible. We don't pass the calls from one operator to another. Some of our volunteers would be swamped with requests."

"While other ones would have nothing to do. But that's okay, you're only dealing with human feelings." Flack's tone was full of sarcasm.

"Look, I'm offering a serv-, um, help and you're here to extort me!"

"_Extort, _what do you think detective Messer?"

"Mafia lingo, Detective Flack. But let's ignore it. So, I call, I speak with the first free volunteer. I talk, explaining why I'm feeling down and the only help is either complete silence or a doctor's name. Could we at least have these psychologists' names?"

"And hope they belong to a professional register?"

The woman stood, clearly offended as she retrieved a folder with the names. She copied the list and handed it to the detectives.

"One more thing. If I'd like to talk with the same person even if it's impossible, because, you know, I'm stubborn, what could I do?"

"Well, if you left your phone number..."

"Would you call me back?"

"No, of course not!" The two men exchanged a glance as she continued. "but, privately..."

"Wow! Dates for singles, too!" Flack exclaimed.

"You're too funny for your own good!" Sophia admonished.

"Ouch... what a woman!"

"She really hurt me, I don't think I'll ever be okay. Just to clarify things for you, what your doing is most likely legal, but you're managing it horribly. There's no training, no passion. You don't feel the need to use experts – please, don't mention your damn psychologists – and your rules can be easily bypassed. It just looks alike a big confused mess."

"Some of our volunteers went through the same experiences of the people who call."

"And that can make things worse. If you're full of anger, hurt and spite how can you help someone who is in your same condition?"

Danny breathed deeply, absorbing Flack's words. Then, he asked Sophia, "do you record the calls?"

She seemed shocked, "no! We don't want to violate their privacy!"

"Whose privacy? The people calling or volunteers?" Flack stood, shaking his head, "I don't like this at all. And I feel you're hiding something."

Sophia stood as well, her body rigid, "that is all. I've already wasted too much time. You just have this tiny connection and you want it to mean something. I'll have someone show you out."

Danny grimaced. "We don't need an escort, we know the way," he curtly replied as they left.


	15. 14: Sometimes appearances are deceptive

_A/N: Reviewers and followers: Thank you! And Madison Bellows, dear beta, a big thank to you, too!_

**Chapter 14: Sometimes appearances are deceptive**

He could feel Danny's eyes burning holes on his back. He stopped and glanced at him, "I know, I know."

"Just weird looking at you trying to be me. I'm the instinctive and irrational one. I'm the hot-headed one!"

Flack didn't comment, he just shrugged.

"I know we don't talk, we're men! But if you need to..." Danny ended awkwardly.

This made Flack smile a little, "I'm mimicking you and you're mimicking Stella. Considering this place, how is this thing going to end?" He got in the car, Danny following him. "The problem isn't the homicides, I'm almost used to them, it's my job. It's the whole situation, you know? We have two people who saw their loved ones die. They obviously became depressed and cut everybody off. Normal, I think. But the others? They accepted it, and kept their distance. And when the victims looked for some help they found the most unhelpful helpline ever. How is someone supposed to live in a world like this?"

Danny studied carefully his friend, "we wouldn't have done it, you know? If Jess, well, we wouldn't have abandoned you!"

"Danny, it's not that easy," he replied with a strange smile, "don't you think that Buster's sister would have liked to keep him close? And the second victim's parents? But if I'd cut you off, deliberately, because I don't like your pity, because I don't want to have to explain again and again how I'm feeling... I'd start repeating to you that everything is okay, that I have my bad days but I'm getting through it... how much time would you need to believe me?"

Danny didn't miss Flack's use of 'I'. It worried him. He bit his lips.

"Okay, you're not convinced... let me make an example. You're great detectives, you're used to study others' behaviors and you are very good at it. You know I've had my depressive episodes because of Jess's hospitalization, but, how bad did you think it was?"

Danny thought for a while, pondering his answer, "I guess the very first days were the worst ones, but then she woke up, started recovering, doctors were optimistic and you started feeling better."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, you even told me when-" Messer stopped mid sentence.

"You're right in part. Those first days were horrible, every second living in the uncertainty was so hard, it was even difficult to breathe. When she woke up it was a little better but I was still depressed. I remember being at home alone, laying on the bed without the strength to move. And you were there, asking how I was feeling, trying to help. Part of me knew you had the best intentions but I couldn't take it anymore. So I started saying that I was good. But-"

"You lied to me?" Danny was shocked. Never he could have imagined such thing.

"Relax, we're not talking about a confession to arrest a killer."

"Wow, Don, I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I'm your best friend. You have always been there when I needed you. And the first time you needed me I was clueless."

"Not a problem. Lucy was just born, and I know you're shocked but I'm a good liar."

"If you lie down with dogs..."

"... you will get up with fleas. Of course, I can lie way better than our perps, but I'm not gloating." Flack smiled, looking more relaxed. He shrugged, as if to forget the discussion, started the car and drove away.

"You know what I've read on _Wikipedia?" _Danny, relieved that his friend seemed calmer, decided to change the topic, the moment of sentimentalism was clearly over.

"Why do you read _Wikipedia?"_

"You can find interesting news! So, according to Wiki detectives may be allowed to lie."

"Pardon?", Don started chuckling.

"Why are you laughing now?"

"Picture this scene in court: 'You're lying, detective!' 'Wikipedia says I can' 'Ah, okay then'. Can you imagine?"

"You're such an idiot! You can lie in order to make a suspect confess, stop laughing!"

Flack took a couple of deep breaths to calm down, "okay, I'm good. Thank you."

"Don't mention it.", Messer's cell rang, "yes? We're on our way back, Stella. Not exactly. Let's just say that in this case we have tons of useless people. We'll explain later, we'll need to do some research. See you, what? Don's here, why? No, he's fine. Okay, bye."

"What?", Flack sounded confused.

"Apparently, she has perceived some negative energy coming from you because she asked if you were okay."

"She isn't even here!"

"It's Stella we're talking about. I guess a little talk with her is in your future."

Flack shook his head, "Stella... I didn't even have to tell her about me and Jess, you know? Once, we were chatting and she just says out of the blue, 'are you going to propose to Jess?' I was speechless for a very long time."

"Stella knows everything, like Mac."

"At least he didn't meddle too much. And here we are."

"On days like this, I don't like this place very much."

"You can say that again."

They got out from the car, forcing themselves to enter the lab.

* * *

_A/N: I know Flack knows detectives can lie to obtain confessions, but I couldn't erase that little bit of dialogue, because I like it too much. Sue me, if you want._


	16. Chapter 15: Mac's directives

_A/N: No beta for this chapter. I hope it'll be still understandable._

_Dear readers, starting from tomorrow I'll be on holidays. I'll be back in ten days with a new chapter (hopefully)._

_See you all!_

**Chapter 15: Mac' s directives**

"So?"

"Easier finding a needle in a haystack", Flack put down the papers Sophia had given him. Adam looked at them with eyes wide open.

"This is the operators' list. All volunteers, no specific competences required. It's enough wanting to do it and lovely Sophia will be there for you."

"We have their addresses."

"But we're talking about 225 names. If we have to check on everybody..."

"... considering this is the only link we have and we are not sure we're heading to the right direction... it could be just a waste of time."

"Wait, we know it's a man!"

The team turned toward Jess, "yes. Don's witness said she saw a medium built man, dressed in black..."

"So, if we see that these people don't match the description we can exclude them."

"I don't think so. What if the eyewitness just saw an accomplice? What if the mind behind it's another person? We know nothing about the way the killer works."

"So, we can't exclude women", Flack passed a hand between his hair.

"There must be a trace. Evidence is everywhere and you know it.", Mac intervened, "let's start with the list. Adam, compare the names with the weapon owners. Start with weapons in general, maybe the Desert Eagle is not registered. Stella, see if you can find a link between the places where the victims have been found. It could mean something for someone on the list. Lindsay, where are you with the covers?"

"Nothing specific at the moment. The first results only told us that they are plain cotton covers; though there is a component which I haven't still identified. I hope the results will arrive soon"

"Good. Angell and Flack, take the volunteers' list and start talking to them. Be careful, calm questions, nothing too specific. We don't want to annoy loyal taxpayers who do volunteering."

Flack smiled, "I see, Sinclair called."

"Of course."

"We can also check their cars. I know we don't have a specific description, but a dark Ford is not a yellow Smart", Jess suggested.

"Good idea. Hawkes and Danny: Go on searching in our victims' life, maybe you'll find a name. Go back to their apartments, look again on the crime scenes. I don't care how much time you'll need, just be over scrupulous, okay? Stella, you have the bullets. Check them with every weapon you can find. Try to find where they come from."

She nodded, her hair bouncing around her shoulders.

"I'll control the fateful question. I'll start by checking the net, maybe looking in the social networks. Adam, I'll need our victims' accounts, I need to see if they chatted and the sites they visited. This being told...", Taylor eyed his watch, "... it's getting late, you can start, but I don't want you to stay overnight if you don't find anything. We still don't know how our killer works so we can't prevent him yet. Staying awake now is quite useless. I'll talk to you all tomorrow morning at seven."

A loud chairs screeching mixed with various okays was heard. As usual, Mac had given a perfect description of their situation. Everybody would like to stay but they also knew they needed to rest for a little while.

After greeting the lab rats the two detectives took the elevator. Jess leaned against the wall closing the eyes. "I'm drained... oh, I almost forgot: is it possible that the baker called me today?"

Flack made a funny face, "she did. We had a little disagreement about the wedding cake."

Angell was immediately more alert: "What-"

"Don't worry, everything is sorted. We'll have the cake we want. By the way, Samantha will follow this things for us."

"God bless her!", Jess fell silent for a minute, "so, what's the plan?", she waved a copy of the list she was holding.

"I'll start looking in our archives. And then I'll narrow down the names. I can't speak with all these people."

Jess agreed, "we could go now to the precinct and insert the names. Considering the speed of our PCs it will took ages to have the first results."

"Excellent."

The precinct was rather calm at that time. The day shift was over and the night shift officers were working quietly. Flack, noticing Smart-Larry dozing on a chair, let out a short chuckle. Jess followed his glance.

"Smart-Larry! I haven't seen him for a while!"

The man, having heard his name, opened the eyes, "hey, my two fav detectives! Come there to have a little chat with your Larry. The wedding, how is going the planning?"

Don eyed him sternly, "how do you know about the wedding?"

"I know, I know... you check on us and we check on you. By the way, congratulations", he winked at Angell.

Flack was about to answer him, but Jess stopped him, putting a hand on his arm, "C'mon, you know he's not worth it. Let's control the names."

The sat at their desk and inserted the names. Then, after collecting their things, they left.


	17. Chapter 16: Intermezzo

_A/N: Madison Bellows, thank you! You're very nice!_

_Just a short chapter. Hope you like._

**C****hapter 16: Intermezzo**

No one could ever imagine it, but even Don Flack had a tender spot. Lying on his couch, with Jess lazily stretched on top of him, he was almost convinced that the world wasn't such a terrible place. And Angell felt very privileged to be the only one who could see that side of Flack.

"You want the last egg rolls?" she asked him, gesturing toward the remnants of the Chinese take-away.

He wrapped his arms around her hips, preventing her from moving, "no, I'm good this way. Very good."

Jess took a long look at him, with closed eyes and a light smile on the lips he was the picture of tenderness.

"Maybe I should shoot a video and post it on _YouTube. _People have to see how cuddly you are."

"You won't do it... plus, it's not true!"

She laughed, "oh c'mon! You'd purr, if you could!"

"There's no quicker way to ruin the mood than to compare me to one of those little hairy, disgusting creatures." Don had opened the eyes and was staring at her a little annoyed.

"Not my fault you're allergic, don't take it out on the cats!"

Flack didn't comment further so she put her head back on his chest. Once at home, they had agreed to not think at the case but try to relax and spend a quiet night. They laid silent for a while just listening to their breathing. Jess was almost asleep when Flack spoke. "So, Miss, here we are, relaxed, calm and alone. Give me some unimportant details of your wedding dress."

"Never. You won't know till wedding day. You know it's bad luck."

"All of a sudden are you a super traditional bride-to-be?"

"Nah. But don't you want it to be a surprise?"

"I'd like this to be our first evening as married couple."

She looked again at him and kissed him fondly, "remind me who's not the mushy one? Okay, it's fuchsia!"

He joked back, "perfect. It'll be beautiful next to my orange suit."

"You know I'm not scared of the suit."

"I swear my mom and my sister helped me choose the right tie. And it wasn't the one I'd have bought."

"Luckily!"

"Seriously, I wish it was over. It just seems that the people who are here to help us like complicating things. Why can't they just do what we tell them? It's easier making a suspect confess than getting the cake I want!"

"You know what? It has been a couple of days since the florist's last call. I just wish he wasn't planning something."

"I swear if I'll see an apple somewhere I'll arrest him!"

"_Only roses and Gypsophilas? Too dramatic!" _Jess mimicked him.

They laughed together, feeling content and in love.

"I think we better go to sleep. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day," Flack said after a while.

"Right," she agreed. She stood and reached for his hand to help him stand. With synchronized movements they got ready for bed.

Once under the covers, Angell felt the exhaustion take hold of her muscles. She moved closer to Flack, nestling herself, as usual, against his side, with her right hand carefully placed on the top of his abdominal scar. It was a small gesture she had started doing at the beginning of their relationship; almost as if she meant to protect him. Her eyes closed, she felt her body relaxed completely and she was sure she would fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

"Before meeting you the idea of ever getting married was so foreign to me." Don's voice, already full of sleep, captured her attention.

She hold him closer while kissing lightly his neck. She agreed with him; before meeting him, she was sure she would never get married. But she had also been certain she would have never dated a fellow officer. Now here she was, madly in love with one of the toughest and wittiest detective she had ever known. And she wouldn't have changed the situation. Ever.

With her lips still brushing his skin she murmured, "'night, Don. Sleep well. I love you."  
With that, she fell fast asleep.


	18. Chapter 17: No news is bad news

_A/N: Madison Bellows, thank you very much. You're a great beta._

_To my reviewers: thanks to you, too. Glad you're liking the fiction and more glad you're using your time to tell me. _

_Enjoy the reading._

**Chapter 17: No news is bad news**

During the following morning briefing, Flack was feeling like a kid going to school without his homework finished. The first set of results from the name search hadn't turned up anything. To be honest, they weren't really meant to, but Flack couldn't help hoping.

Looking around, he noticed that the rest of the team also didn't have any good news.

"Good morning to you all. I already know nobody has anything new to tell me, even if I would have at least expected to have some results about the composition of the blankets", raising an eyebrow, Mac glanced at Lindsay, who was drinking from a Starbuck's cup.

"They didn't tell you?" the young woman commented, sounding surprised and nervous, "unfortunately, we had some problems in the lab and the equipment needed to be fixed."

"Nobody told me. I'd like to be warned immediately when these things happen." Taylor's tone was stern and almost icy.

"In the lab they swore they were going to tell you, so..." Lindsay looked at her fingers, feeling guilty. In any other moment she would have run to her Boss's office to warn him, but the previous night she had been beaten and her mind hadn't been completely focused. Plus, she had missed Lucy all day like crazy and she had only desired to go home to spend some time with her daughter. "I'm sorry, Mac. It won't happen again."

"You're right, it won't. So, another dead end right now. You two, what about your list?" Taylor's attention was at the two detectives seated in front of him.

"The weird thing is that-" Flack looked at his notes, "only twenty-nine people have a gun license."

"Weird?", Hawkes asked.

"I don't know, it looks like every person in New York owns a weapon. I was expecting a higher number, that's all."

"Could we leave our personal expectations off the case, please?"

"Of course, Mac, sorry. Twenty-nine people, sixteen men and thirteen women with no criminal records. They look clean, but I won't be surprised if some of these records would have been polished with care. We decided to start with them and then go on with the rest of the list."

"In what order?"

Angell answered, "first weapons owners, then the ones who live in the range of twelve miles from the victims' houses, two of them also have the license , and then we go to the dark cars' owners. Adam, we need some help with the cars."

Adam nodded, "okay. I'll look also at the type of weapons owned."

"I remind you, be careful, we're not sure the person we're looking for is in the list."

The two detectives nodded.

"Stella, any news from the bullets?"

"Obvious details apart, I've found a particular streak. I've compared it with our reference Desert Eagle, and it doesn't look a standard one. Maybe the killer modified the weapon. I'm also checking for a Desert Eagle missing report. I hope we'll have a temporary line. It seems there are lots of things we don't know yet."

"The problem is that we don't know anything about this guy."

Mac sighed, "Fine. Okay, you can all go. Call me if you have something."

"Okay." They all stood and left the room to do their tasks. Mac look at them, he was going to do further research about the question and then he'd a chat with Cruz's friends. He shuddered slightly realizing that a visit from Sinclair was on his agenda.

* * *

"So, who's the first lucky one?" Flack was driving skilfully in the traffic, in a way only a police officer or a cab driver would be able to do.

"Frank Powers, thirty years old, he lives on 62nd, not far from the 5th," Jess read from the list. She loathed that case, she loathed it very deeply. Plus, she loathed going from door to door. It was one thing going to arrest someone, but it was another going around asking questions. The majority of New Yorkers detested being disturbed by police first thing in the morning. Or in the late morning. Or during afternoon. Or always, if she was being honest.

"It'd be great if he was the killer, don't you think? He could be. He is a man, he has a gun license, he lives few miles from Buster's house, he's a volunteer in the help line. We don't know if he has a car, but he seems to be the perfect candidate."

"And this is why he won't be him," she smiled sarcastically.

"You're right... what a jerk!", Flack quickly steered right, "Manhattan drivers... he deserves a ticket."

"Are you going to say: _'Where are the police when you need them?',_ she teased.

Don turned toward her with a half smile on his lips, "maybe. Sometimes I just wish I had my ticket book in the car. Of course, I'd be never on time to crime scenes, but-"

"You're so by the book!"

"Hawkes would say I have a extremely developed superego."

"Busted! You listen to our little nerd friends when they talk to you."

"Obviously. I'll use all these notions against them when they won't expect it," he snickered.

"You know the thing I said about you being by the book? Well, let's forget it."

"What do you mean? Never mind, here we are."

"Saved by the bell!"

The detectives left the car and walked to the door, knocking, "Mister Powers, NYPD."

Few seconds later they heard someone nearing the door and opening the lock. But they weren't prepared for what they found in front of them.


	19. Chapter 18: Routine, nothing more - Pt 1

_A/N: Thanks to my beta, Madison Bellows_

**Chapter 18: Routine, nothing more – Part 1**

Leaning against the door frame and clad in a red lace gown, Frank Powers stared at them. Angell and Flack glanced quickly at one another, _we're here for two homicides not to question the sexual habits of this guy._

"Mister Powers, I'm Detective Don Flack, and this is Detective Angell. We'd like to have a talk to you."

The man moved slightly, "no problem. Be my guests."

"It won't be necessary. You have a gun license, is that correct?"

"Yeah... I've had it for almost five years... why, any problem?" He was now looking worried.

"No. We're conducting an investigation and, Angell", he nodded at Jess.

She showed Frank the victims' photos, "do you know them?"

Powers nervously swallowed and, without noticing, held the gown tighter around his body, "I've never seen them. Do you think I killed them?"

"Should we?" Flack would have liked to press him a little further, even if his instincts were telling him he was innocent, but then he remembered Mac's words, "we're just asking some questions. It'd be great if you would cooperate with us."

Frank nodded, "no. I don't know them."

"You are a volunteer at a suicide help line, aren't you?"

This made him look more alert, "Oh yes, I go three times per week. It's not very much, but I don't have time during other days. Lots of people call, and I like to think we can help them a little."

"What kind of relationship is there among the volunteers?"

"Well, we're a rather large group. Maybe two hundred people. So it's not possible to get along with everybody, you know? We kind of form different little groups..." Frank shrugged with resignation.

Some noises coming from the apartment were heard. Frank look behind him, "must be Julia, my fiancee. You know, this is her gown. I put on the first thing I grabbed when you knocked," he stopped, looking down. Then he looked again at the detectives, smiling a little, "Julia and I met two years ago, while volunteering."

"So she volunteers at the the help line, too?"

"No more. She was sorry, but she has a very demanding job, she left a year ago."

"One last question, Mister Powers: what kind of car do you drive?"

"I don't drive. I live in New York, I don't need the license. And if you think at the actual pollution level... we should behave better for next generations, don't you agree?"

Don and Jess stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Then, Angell spoke, "well, thank you for your cooperation. Good bye."

"Good bye to you. I'll be at your complete disposal, if you need me again."

The two detectives walked toward the exit, "he's a Boy Scout! He doesn't drive, he cares for the future of humanity, he was more than helpful, he ran to _open the door _when he discovered we were with NYPD, wearing his fiancee's gown to prevent us having to wait."

"Well, I wouldn't wear your lace gown if I had to race to open the door."

"You're lucky I don't own one. Well, we can exclude him?"

"Yes. Hey, only 224 left!"

* * *

The apartment of the second victim, Elizabeth Cruz, was in the East Village. Her former roommate opened the door to the police, failing to hide completely her disappointment.

"Miss Brown, I'm sorry to disturb you again, but we are only doing our job. You know, something like finding who killed your friend." Danny, after another useless search in Buster's house, wasn't in a good mood.

"Of course... come in. Her room is in the way you left it, I haven't touched anything."

Hawkes and Messer entered the room closing the door behind them to keep Brown from follow them.

"I guess it's annoying to be in this situation," Danny commented in a low voice, glancing around him.

"In fact she keeps saying she was a great friend of our victim but she doesn't seem so sad. Has someone checked her alibi?"

"Angell. She was at college when Elizabeth was killed; we have some witnesses confirming it. We also have shown her the photo of the crime scene, but she didn't recognize the place."

Sheldon raised his eyebrows.

"She wasn't lying. And she doesn't know anything about weapons. Of course, she's behaving strangely but she's not our killer."

The two CSIs studied the bedroom, trying to concentrate on the least obvious details. The laptop had already been taken to the lab with the paper with the printed question on it.

"Hey, she didn't own a printer!"

"So?"

"How did the paper arrive there? I was thinking e-mail, maybe, an e-mail she had erased from the laptop memory, but how did she print it?"

Danny focused his attention on the bin: the previous day he had looked at it a little distracted, _what an idiot! _He put his gloves on and reversed the inside on the carpet. Candy wrappings, a void mascara applicator, some shredded pieces of hand-written papers, and an envelope. "Boom!"

"A plain white envelope? She could have thrown it away without thinking."

"Look!" Messer pointed at the opening of the envelope: a thin strip of dried glue was still visible, "this was a closed envelope. And this," attached to one of the end there was an almost invisible fragment, "could take us somewhere. Pass me one of the evidence envelopes."

Hawkes couldn't help smiling, "A little cacophonous, don't you think?"

"Are you implying I have a simple vocabulary? Not my fault. C'mon, let's go."

They found miss Brown in the living room. She was pretending to read a magazine.

"We're done, for now."

"For now?"

"Any problems?"

"It's just... well... I was hoping to start looking for a new roommate. The rent is terribly high here and I'm paying it all alone and-"

She couldn't end the sentence; Danny and Hawkes were already in the corridor while the girl's voice was resounded unheard in the apartment.

* * *

"Any news, Adam?"

He jumped on the chair, he was so engrossed in looking the PC screen, he didn't notice Stella's entrance.

"No, lots of people in New York own a dark car! In Flack's list about 65% have one."

"We should identify the model, at least. Sandra Poulson said it was a Ford, even if she wasn't so sure."

"Typical!" Adam commented with a half chuckle.

"Do you mind?" Stella tilted the head to take a better look at him, "please note that I know the exact model of the car I'm driving and I cal also recognize other models without problems."

Adam blushed, "o-of c-course you can... I just wanted... wanted to say that... that, maybe, if we showed some pictures to the witness she could identify the car with certainty."

Stella smiled, "not a bad idea, I don't know if there's time, but we can try."

At that moment Lindsay walked fast in front of the glass walls of the lab.

"Linds, wait!" Stella blocked her.

"I need to go to Mac. The equipment has been repaired and I have some interesting results."

"Mac is with Sinclair right now, just tell me and then we'll inform him too."

"The cotton fibers refer to a specific component called Caltex. It is used in a experimental research to create special covers. Well, this component can provide heat but can also maintain it and create a kind of micro-climate based on the body temperature. The particularity is that we have either cotton – a natural texture – and a synthetic texture combined and it's not something very common on the market. And...", she stepped closer to her coworkers, touching the screen of the tablet she was holding, "only few companies here in Manhattan use it."

"Great. Adam, put the car search on hold. I need the list of the employees. Lindsay, you did a good job."

She didn't answer but started helping Adam.

* * *

_A/N: I don't think something like Caltex exists. I hope this is plausible. _


	20. Chapter 19: Routine, nothing more - Pt 2

_A/N: Madison Bellows, I'm pretty sure a simple thank you is not enough to say how grateful I am. You're really helpful. _

**Chapter 19: Routine, nothing more – Part 2**

Detective Mac Taylor greeted Chief Sinclair with a strong handshake and stared at his retreating form. He then went back in his office to clear his mind a little. After few minutes Stella knocked before entering after a barely perceptible nod from Mac.

She sat on a chair. "We have some news-" Mac looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "Lindsay found out that the fiber from the covers is used only in four laboratories in New York. She and Adam are working to get the employees' names."

"That's good." Mac's cell interrupted the conversation with its loud ringing. He checked the ID and then answered without hesitation. He listened in silence for few moments while Stella was looking curiously at him. He ended the call with a "see you there asap," and then focused his attention back to the curly haired woman. "That was Danny. It seems that the killer sends the letters using a normal envelope. A used envelope was found in the second victim's house."

"It'd be great if we had some news from Angell and Flack, but going from door to door is a long and often useless task."

Mac sighed, agreeing. He stood up, "let's go. I want to see the companies you told me about earlier."

* * *

"Thank you. Goodbye." Flack stared at the closing door in front of him, "another name to scratch off our list."

"I can't believe it. When will Adam tell us if there are names on both lists?"

The lab tech had called them few minutes ago to update them. He had also added that, as soon as he had all the employees' names, he was going to compare the lists.

Flack looked at Jess for a while; he didn't like when she was feeling frustrated and defeated. He grabbed her shoulder, squeezing it gently, "I have an idea. We stop for twenty minutes to drink a coffee and eat something, okay? Then, we'll start again and I'm sure Adam will have something new for us."

Angell's lips outlined a smile, Flack's suggestion was perfect. They had questioned lots of people without stopping and her exhaustion was starting to take a toll. "Deal."

"Perfect. There's a fabulous diner not far from here."

She laughed, "you sound like the Zagat guide. Who wins for best places? Where are the five stars?"

"I don't see that as a problem. I'm always on the streets, it is vital knowledge, knowing where I can find some good meals." He put on a serious face but he couldn't help bursting out laughing at the end. That was one of the greatest things about his relationship with Jess, no matter how awful the day was she was always able to lift his mood by simply being there.

* * *

"This is the envelope."

"There's nothing written on it. So, no graphology analysis."

"How can you be sure the sheet with the question was inside?"

"Look at this," Danny pointed to the little dark shred attached to the envelope, "It looks like the cover."

"Let's check it." Very carefully Lindsay took the piece with a tweezers and put it under a microscope before moving to the PC. A while later, two pictures appeared on the mega screen of the lab. "So, to the left we have the reference piece – the cover found with the first victim – and to the right there's the piece from the envelope."

"They match," Stella confirmed.

"Exactly, you see these little different zones?", Lindsay zoomed in the picture, "this is that Caltex material. It's the same fabric."

"Idiotic question, is it possible that Miss Cruz worked for one of the companies?"

The group turned toward the door. "How long have you been there just looking at us?" Danny sounded surprised, he hadn't really noticed Flack.

"Why? Are you doing something illegal? When I am not around you use monosyllabic words?" Nobody answered. "I came up just few minutes ago. Nobody answered my question – the one about Cruz, obviously."

"Elizabeth Cruz was working on her Master's degree. _Economical and administrative management in international firms. _She had a part-time job, she was an accountable in a building company. She couldn't have come in contact with the cover," Mac specified.

"Okay. I'd like to know how the killer chooses his victims. He sends the letters so he knows their addresses. How much can you trust a person who you know only by phone?"

"I guess he's really empathic," Hawkes intervened.

"So, it's plausible to believe he has suffered something similar to the victims..."

"Maybe. But, if there's not evidence, we should follow other leads. How was questioning?"

"Banal, obvious, irrelevant. People we talked to have nothing suspect. Obviously we haven't finished yet, but I was hoping you brainiacs would help us narrowing the list."

"Gimme!" Danny took the sheets Flack was handing him. "Let's compare them with the employees and let's see the final result". A few swift finger moves and the PC started the analysis. Everyone was staring at the screen in grave silence.

"Why is it taking so long?"

"Flack, it's been less then five minutes!"

The detective made a funny expression, looked at his watch, at the screen and back at his watch. He hated the wait, he was a man of action. "Okay, I'll let the magic computer work in peace. I'm leaving, I'm gonna start my report."

The rest of the team stayed in the room and start looking at their notes to look for other perspectives.


	21. Chapter 20: It never rains, it pours

_A/N: As usual a big thank to my beta, Madison Bellows. _

_GeorgeAndrews, you're reviewing every single chapter (big, hard task), so a huge thank to you, too! _

**Chapter 20: It never rains, it pours**

Jess greeted the young woman with a smile, "hi! Sam, this is Lindsay," the detective pointed to the woman next to her, "Lindsay, this is Sam, Don's sister."

"You can't go wrong, the blue of your eyes doesn't lie!" Lindsay smiled as she shook Sam's hand before nodding toward the stroller, "this little one is Lucy. Though asleep, she's really happy to be here."

Truth was the two women had already met years prior, but they had both decided to ignore the fact. They didn't want to create embarrassment in a day so special to Jess.

Samantha lent over a little to take a better glance at Lucy, "cutie! She looks like you."

"Thank god," Jess murmured in a low tone.

"Hey, I heard you! Not to be a polemic, but my husband is not that bad looking."

"Lindsay, I know. But I have to be at Flack's side in these occasions. You know, I'm the one who's going to marry him."

"So it's better he doesn't know you think Lindsay's husband is handsome?"

Jess shook her head furiously, "please! Don't you dare!"

"Yeah, we don't have time to face the next competition between our alpha males," Lindsay commented with a sigh. She was madly in love with Danny and she loved Flack, but sometimes their friendship was a little too much.

"Okay, let's go in."

That day, Jess had the final fitting of her wedding gown. The first time she had brought her mom and a couple of her brothers but she'd like to have her friends' insight as well. Her relatives had been very kind but she couldn't forget the comments her brothers had made about the neckline. _Why did I bring them in the first place? They're so overprotective! If I listened to them, I would be wearing a burlap sack. Luckily dad hadn't been there..._

"Welcome back, Jessica!" Megan, the assistant, was waiting for her, the usual plastic grin on her face. _Wondering if she's going to be paralyzed at the end of the day..._

"Good morning, we have my last fitting."

"I know, dear! Please, follow me," she said with a growing smile. Then, she nodded toward Lindsay and Sam, "it'd be wonderful for you to come too. Our tailoring room is very quiet and that little girl could sleep peacefully."

The woman was right, the room was cozy and silent. Though Jess could sense in there a certain sense of uneasiness and tension. "I can only guess the dramas that unfold in here," Lindsay murmured in Sam's ear. The couple sat on a little couch while Jess went in the changing room.

A few minutes later, Jess reappeared wearing her wedding gown. "So?"

"Wow, Angell..." Lindsay was speechless. Jess looked amazing, the dress was elegant and classy and followed perfectly the curves of her body. Monroe couldn't help but feel a little regretful, considering how she missed her occasion to wear a white dress.

"Look at this," the detective turned around, showing her friends her almost naked back.

"Gosh!" escaped from Sam's lips.

Jess frowned a little, "too much?"

Sam shook the head, "no, it's beautiful. I was just imaging my brother's expression when he sees you."

Angell smiled, "I know! The low back line is a little present to him. He's going to get crazy about it."

"You're fabulous, trust us."

The girls produced a long dreamy sigh, it was more than perfect. But then Jess's phone rang. She looked for it in her purse and her expression clouded when she noticed the caller. _There's only one reason Don would call me right now, and I don't like it. _"Angell," she answered.

"Hey, there, sorry to disturb you, but the suspect killed again, there's a third victim. Central Park, Strawberry Fields. Come as soon as possible. And bring Lindsay. Thank you."

"Okay. See you soon." Jess took a look at her dress and sighed sadly.

"Gotta go. We're waited in Central Park," Jess told her colleague while shooting a quick glance at Sam, she didn't want to say too much.

Lindsay understood immediately, "you go, I have to stop first at Danny's parents to drop Lucy, okay?"

Jess nodded before going back to change out of her dress.

* * *

The woman wasn't more than thirty-five. She was laying under a big oak, the eyes fixed on something she couldn't see anymore. Around her, almost to protect her from the cold, the killer had placed the dark cover, his signature. Flack was looking on silently, letting Mac and Danny collecting the smallest evidences. After all these years, the detective knew they needed to work calmly and without pressure. He studied them for a couple of minutes, hoping to be hit by a sudden idea but then he looked away, his eyes taking in the surroundings.

The girl who had discovered the body was being medicated by Hawkes. While jogging, she had stumbled on the victim hurting a knee. Flack had already spoken to her. Her words had been full of shock. Flack hadn't insisted too much, the girl was only a passing-by.

There had been news during the night: an employee of one of the Companies worked also as a volunteer. Problem was that the man, Mark Connor, was nowhere to be found even after Flack had sent his best men to look for him. They had already been at his house and at the help-line but he hadn't been there. Plus, the Company was closed because it was celebrating its anniversary.

"Mac, look!" Danny's exclamation captured Flack's attention who moved closer. His friend was happily holding a cell phone. It was a big difference from the other scenes.

"Does it work?"

"Let's try..." Messer tried to turn it on but nothing happened, "battery must be dead. It won't be a problem though," he commented, securing the evidence.

"There's nothing more, no ID, nothing. The cell was partially hidden under the body, as if it had fallen or the killer had forgotten it."

Flack's cell rang and he answered it, waving at Angell and Lindsay who were approaching the scene.

"Who threw a coin in the well?" he asked after he closed the call, "Connor is at the precinct. Angell, you're with me."

He stalked away, followed quickly by Jess. Mac, Danny and Lindsay watched silently while Hawkes put the body in the bag.


	22. Chapter 21: Dead end?

_A/N: Madison Bellows, thank you very much! _

**Chapter 21: Dead end?**

The room was filled with a heavy, tense silence. The suspect sat rigidly, breathing in irregular gulps. Flack was in front of him, apparently calm and relaxed. He almost seemed unaware of the uneasy man, solely focused on the file he had brought in the room.

"Why I am here?" The man's voice was strangled and acute at the same time.

The detective looked upward and held the man's gaze, "I'm the one who's entitled to ask questions, don't forget it." Silence fell again. _I just can't help it, _thought Flack, _I just love my job. If I could go back in time, I'd end up doing the same thing. _He read a last note on the file and looked at the suspect again. _Showtime. _"Mister Connor, you work at _Tissues for Everything. _Everything includes illegal things, too?"

"I don't understand," Connor shrugged, looking away.

"No? Okay, let's see if I can help you understand." Flack showed the man a picture, "do you recognize it?" Mark didn't answer. "Mister Connor, this isn't a quiz. You can't phone a friend, so I'd suggest you to stop wasting my time."

"Well... it looks like a cotton blanket..."

"So clever! Point is this isn't a common cotton cover. It's made of Cal... Cal..."

"Caltex!" Mark ended Flack's sentence.

"Caltex, right. How do you know the component?"

"It's an experimental component we're using in some of our products. We're still waiting for the patent so we can't sell it yet. If everything go the way we're hoping for, those covers will be a great success. We're also thinking to-"

Flack raised his hands to stop the other man's words, "okay, spare me the whole spiel. You told me everything I needed to know. So, this is one of your covers?"

"Yes, it is."

"So, when I talked about illegal things I was right."

"I, no... well..."

"Mister Connor, three of these covers have been wrapped around corpses. Are you studying how to keep cold bodies warm also? I'm pretty sure _Twilight _vampires don't exist."

"Corpses?" Mark murmured half shocked.

Flack looked st him carefully, judging his reaction: he was hiding something but he seemed truly shocked by the killings. "Yes, corpses. How did your not-yet-licensed covers end up at the scenes?"

The man glanced around before looking down, "well... we... there have been some robberies and..."

"Why didn't you report them?" Flack smirked, "ah, let me guess, insurance matters."

"We have deficient security systems, they don't work very well, you know, and the Chief doesn't want to spend money to improve them and... if our insurance finds out about the robberies we won't be refunded. And, probably, it'll cut down the contract. It's a well-known insurance company and this will destroy our reputation."

Flack looked at the man. He seemed relieved. It was evident that it was the only thing he was hiding. "I see. Fact is now I know. It may not concerned the killings but I can't ignore it... you know, something about the badge I wear."

"You'll force us to close!"

"Your Chief will be the cause of the bankrupt. Don't take it on me or the Department, it's not a smart move."

* * *

Mac's laptop started beeping quietly. The man looked at the screen. It had been a couple of days since he had started searching information about the question and until that moment nothing useful had come up. Mac hoped they started getting more lucky.

The words typed on the screen were very surprising:

_...The woman stood in the shadow, far from every light source. The man, though, knew she was there. He has been following her for a long time, in fact he had the suspicion he had started looking for her even before meeting her. She had always been his final goal. And finally, there she was, only few feet far from him._

_She stared at him with eyes half-closed. She had been waiting for that moment. She had been waiting since her first breath._

_- Where were you when your world has ended?_

_He walked slowly, but without hesitation, closing the distance. In front of her, he put one of his hands on her beautiful cheek, cupping it tenderly._

_- It doesn't matter. I know where I am right now: The exact place where my world is beginning._

_THE END_

Mac arched his brows while printing the document. Five pages, was it possible that the pages held the solution they were looking for? Collecting them, he marched toward the conference room, calling the others to make them join him.

* * *

"What's a fan fiction?" Danny looked around him, sounding confused.

"Fan fiction is a novel where characters are generally taken from anime world, TV series, movies and real people too. There are lots of communities on the internet devoted to archive these works. All these stories are written by ordinary people, you know? It's like a hobby," Adam answered knowingly.

"And how do you know all this?"

"I... well... everybody knows it. I'm spending a lot of time on Internet, so..." he staggered.

"What? Are you an author?"

"No! But..."

"The case, people! Sorry, Mac, how is this fiction linked to the killer?" Stella was browsing through the pages.

"_Where were you when your world has ended? _is the recurring question of the fiction. The PC took some time to find it, because it isn't the title. Basically, the different characters have to answer the question for themselves. But it's a love story, not a noir one. Author's name is , a nickname obviously. I've already sent an e-mail to the site admin to have more information."

"We should keep our fingers crossed."

Mac nodded. At that moment Flack entered the room. "Bad news, guys. Mark Connor has some secrets, but not case related."

"So, tell me: What kind of homicide detective are you?" Danny commented with a half smile.

Don ignored him, "it's very possible the Company he's working for will shut down or maybe have a big, heavy sanction is in its future , but he is not the person we're looking for."

"Did you ask him about volunteering?"

"Of course. He has been doing it for a couple of years, he told me he has about ten true friends in the group. We've already talked to some of them, the others have been called. What about you?"

Mac quickly explained the fan fiction story.

"Still I feel we're missing something..."

"I know. Okay, lets' stop there right now. Lindsay, keep working on the cell. And come immediately when you have the results."

"Okay, Mac," she replied before leaving the room.

"You go back to the evidence. The answer is here; everything's connected."


	23. Chapter 22: Snapshots

_A/N: A big thank to Madison Bellows, my beta. _

**Chapter 22: Snapshots**

"Jess, you in there?" She heard Flack calling for her while still in the shower. So she rapidly finished it and then, wrapped in a soft towel, met him in front of her locker. "Maka told me where to find you."

She shrugged, opening the locker and searching for her clothes. "Any news?"

"Connor broke down and called his lawyer. Maybe the Company won't be closed. And the other friends - volunteers are arriving."

"Do you want to question them in tandem?"

"Dunno. I don't like the idea they'll start covering for each other. You know how it works," he stared at her, transfixed at her grace while getting dressed, "not embarrassed?" She looked at him quizzically. "Putting your clothes on, here, in front of me," he elaborated.

"Guess this case is burning your brain cells. You remember I'm your fiancee, right? I was joking when I told you I was going to phone you to remind you when to show up at the Church, but now I'm truly considering it."

He snorted, hiding a smile, "what I meant was, aren't you embarrassed getting changed in the unisex locker room of the precinct, with your higher ranking coworker staring at you, knowing full well someone could enter at any moment?" He spoke without taking a breath.

"You know what I love about you? The fact that when we are at work, _we are at work. _And that's okay, really. I wish I didn't have to start calling you Detective Flack every time, though. But going back to your question: no, I'm not embarrassed. I've got four older brothers, as my boyfriend – but not my coworker – knows very well!" She smiled, mocking him, " now, about the case?"

"Right. Nothing new on the fiction. The cell has been turned on, but no texts and the last calls were made to a non existent number. Prints belong only to the victim."

The door cracked open, "Detective Flack? Detective Angell?"

"Yes?"

"The volunteers are here."

"We'll be there in a second. Thank you, Officer Wilson."

"I swear he was scared he might be interrupting a little something something," Don commented.

"I swear you are a little paranoid. Let's go!" Jess shot back.

* * *

_Detective Taylor,_

_We're sorry to inform you that Corey Lewis, username , is not longer a member of our Community. Sadly, she passed away a little more than a year ago. I am at your disposal if you need anything else._

_Best regards,_

_Mary Sue Johnson, Site Administrator_

"Interesting," Mac commented in a low tone.

"What?" Stella had entered the office without being noticed.

"Corey Lewis, aka , is dead." Stella arched her eyebrows. "Let's see if we can find something else," he swiftly pressed keys, opening different databases. "You here because you have something to tell me?" he asked her without looking.

"To be honest, I'm here to know if you have eaten something," the woman said, putting a sandwich on Mac's desk.

"Stella..." He was now staring at her, trying to convince her – and himself – he wasn't in need of a break.

"C'mon! Eat it while you're waiting for the results. You can't run on coffee alone."

Mac smiled slightly. He played the tough boss part, but he secretly liked the attentions Stella paid him.

"Thanks. And you?"

She sat, producing her own sandwich and smiling, "thought you'd never ask!"

* * *

"Damn, damn and damn!" Lindsay hit the table with her palms.

"Montana, breathe! What's the matter?" Danny approached her cautiously. He adored her, but he knew too well when it was better to keep his distance.

"This stupid cell is useless! I checked again for prints: nothing. I checked the SIM: nothing. It doesn't even seem to belong to the crime scene," she sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Come here," the detective pointed to himself.

She moved closer and put her head on his shoulder, breathing deeply, "it's so frustrating. How much time are we going to have before he decides to kill again?"

"Don't worry, we'll get him soon," he stared at her, "that's a promise. And then, you, me and Lucy will have a couple of days on our own, far from this lab."

"Messer Family time, huh?" she looked more relaxed.

"You can say that again."

"Guys!" Adam came in a rush, stopping abruptly in front of the couple, "s-sorry... I..."

Danny burst out laughing, "Adam, you're such a baby! Any news?"

"The cell is a specific model which is sold only here," with long strides, Ross walked to the screen and pulled something up. A few seconds later, the words _More Than Technology _appeared on the screen. "It's a store on Fifth and the 36th and this is their special cell. It's Swedish and they're the only ones who can sell it."

"Good job, Adam!"

"How about we cross the employees' names with the help line ones?" Lindsay suggested.

"Consider it done." Adam started immediately.

The waiting game started again.

* * *

"Look, Corey was killed in a car accident. She was out with her fiance, who suffered a seizure while driving. The car crashed and she died immediately, her fiance did survive."

"His name?"

"One moment...Sal, Sal Ginzburg."

Stella grabbed a page of Corey's novel and read: "_S., my world can't end if you'll stay with me. I love you. _She wrote it for him. And then she passed away."

"He's using it like a kind of morbid revenge. We have to find him."

* * *

The computer beeped. "Sal Ginzburg. Volunteer at the help line and employee at the electronics store."

* * *

"Finished?"

"More or less," Flack stretched on his chair and erased another name from his list, "one's missing, he hasn't come... name is Sal Ginzburg. Officer Wilson, what do we know about this guy?"

"He told me he would come, but..."

The two detectives stared at each other silently.


	24. Chapter 23: Playing cat and mouse

_A/N: Madison Bellows, thank you very much._

**Chapter 23: Playing cat and mouse**

In the meeting room the attention of the whole team was fixed on Mac, who was quickly summing up the latest developments in the case.

"Sal Ginzburg" he said as a picture of an ordinary looking man with brown hair and gray eyes appeared on the screen. "A year ago Sal and his fiancee were involved in a car accident. He was driving and she died. Guess you all can see the similarity with our victims. A couple of months later, he started volunteering at the help line. He built very few friendships, and even these people - questioned by Flack and Angell - said he is a person who prefers spending time by himself. One of his help line acquaintances added that it looks like volunteering is the last goal of Sal's existence. Jess and Don are at his last known home address, and they should let us know something soon. By the way, it's been some days since he went to work or to the help line."

"I guess he disappeared when we appeared."

"His boss says he's a quiet worker, though too secretive, and he has a tendency to close off. But he does his job without creating problems."

"Aside from the cell phones."

"Sadly, the owner hadn't noticed the cells had been stolen. It's probable that if we didn't say anything..."

"Okay, he's not Sherlock."

"And the weapon used in the crimes? Ginzburg doesn't have a license."

"He doesn't, but Corey did. And she used to go to the firing range quite often. The gun she owned, a Desert Eagle, was a present from her father."

"The gun we fathers love to give to our precious daughters."

* * *

Standing in front of the closed door, protected by their Kevlar, the two detectives were gathering the concentration needed to break into the apartment. Flack looked at Angell who nodded, the determination shining in her eyes.

"NYPD, open the door!" Don's voice resounded loud and menacing through the whole floor. No noises were heard from inside. Flack knocked soundly, "Sal Ginzburg, open up!" Nothing. He glanced at his partner while putting his hand on the doorknob. He counted silently to three and then turned it. The door opened slowly.

* * *

"I see he has already been arrested", Danny spoke, "six months ago for public nuisance and squatting. Looks like he was annoyed at a mega store that was supposed to be built on the site where his girlfriend died. Then he disappeared."

"There's one thing I still don't get. The crime scenes were where the accidents took place, but what about where the bodies were found?"

Stella intervened, "those locations are key points in Corey's fan fiction. They're important places for the story itself."

* * *

Flack entered first. Jess followed quickly along with the rest of the team. They started searching the apartment, looking in every room.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Damn it!" the detective swore, punching one of his thighs, "he screwed us over."

The two detectives took a look around. Furniture was still there and the house still seemed lived in. A dark sweater was thrown carelessly on the couch, a dirty cup was in the kitchen sink. Angell went to the bedroom where the mess was worse. The bed was unmade and the covers were on the floor. Jess noted the closet door was half-open. She moved closer to take a better look: some clothes were clearly missing. She shook her head, going back to the living room, "I don't think he plans on coming back here."

Flack heavily snorted, passing a hand through his hair, "okay, I want his laptop in the lab. Then I'll have the CSIs here, they need to check every single inch of this place." He grabbed his phone, speed dialing Taylor's.

* * *

"Yes, Flack?"

Stella nervously observed her boss. Mac was the perfect poker player, able to hide the smallest emotion, but, after spending so many years together, she had developed the ability to notice the tiniest change on the man's face. So, even as Mac said very little on the phone, she knew, "nobody was there, right?"

Mac nodded, "he took some clothes and fled. He knows we're looking for him. We need to figure out out his hiding place."

"You think he's going to leave town?" Danny asked.

"I don't think so. This is the city of his love story. By the way, Flack is strengthening airport and bridge controls and he's spreading Ginzburg's identikit. In the meanwhile, Danny and Hawkes, go to his house and check everything, every corner, every drawer, everything. Adam, his laptop is yours."

"He left it behind?"

Mac nodded.

"That's good."

"Lindsay and I are going to investigate Corey's life more deeply. She still seems to be very important to him."

"What about me?" Stella asked.

"You can go home for a while. Rest a little."

"Mac..."

"No objections", he stopped her, arching an eyebrow, _you check when and if I eat but I check when and if you sleep, _he said to her silently before continuing. "Be careful, we can't let him escape. I feel we're about to get him. I'm asking you all for one last push."

His team nodded. They were always eager to stop a murderer.


	25. Chapter 24: Closing in on

**Chapter 24: Closing in on**

"Flack!", Danny sped to keep up with the detective, who was marching toward Mac's office.

"Yeah?", he answered without slowing down.

"We've made an interesting discovery at Ginzburg's."

"Please, tell me it's the map where his secretive hideaway has been circled with a red pencil."

Danny ignored Flack's joke, "our friend signed a subscription with a courier. We entered his access data and saw the story of his last deliveries. That's how he sent the cells to the victims. Every package has been delivered but one. Delivery time: tomorrow", Danny handed Flack the sheet with the details.

Don grabbed it, stopped and changed direction, "wonderful! I've always wished to receive a cell phone as a present", he smiled lightly, "thanks, Danny."

Messer shook his head walking back to the lab where he was faced by a quite normal scene. Adam was dancing his infamous "winning dance".

"You know? You and Linds dance almost in the same way. The feminine grace I see is very similar."

As usual, when caught, Adam jumped, only to calm himself when he discovered it was Danny. "People... they think that if you erase something from your PC it'll be gone forever."

"You computer tech scare me. A lot."

"Well, thank you. So... Ginzburg made lots of researches about his victims. Born dates, details about the accidents, accounts on social networks."

"He was trying to get along with them, trying to gain their trust."

"He also went on managing new comments received by Corey's fanfiction."

"You telling me these stories also receive some comments?"

"Of course! You really can't understand, can you? By the way, reviews apart, lots of mourning messages."

"Maybe they made him feel understood, loved. Okay, Adam, thank you."

* * *

"This whole story is so sad", Lindsay was keeping her eyes locked on Corey's file. It was one of the moments when she could realize how little it took to lose everything, "losing the love of your life could cause all this?", she pointed to the victims' pictures.

"It shouldn't. It's fundamental trying to maintain a sort of balance", Mac, who had lost everything, could understand Sal's motives, but he couldn't agree with them. Obviously.

"Lewis lived in a small apartment in the Village. Now, a couple and their son is living there, so this can't be Ginburg's headquarter."

"Let's check if she had other properties and belongings."

Lindsay went on reading the file.

"Let's see... she owned a car, a dark gray Volvo"

"Sal doesn't own a car, does he?"

"Her car hasn't been demolished, or sold. Actually, it's still registered in her name. The insurance policy is paid."

"Year of the car?"

"2008."

"I'll check the standard equipments. It's a quite recent model, it's probable it's been sold with a GPS. And in fact...", Mac read on the screen, "... it has a standard GPS. Let's look for something which can help us to locate it."

They moved in the lab, where Jess had joined Adam and Danny. She was telling them something.

"... and he repeated it always. Almost like an imprinting. Absurd."

"Jess, sum up, please."

"Don called. Mister Connor called him back to add something about Ginzburg's behavior. The two of them have two close telephone stations, so it happened that Mark could hear some bits of Ginzburg's conversations. It looks like that our man was used to say things like – so, your world has ended; - and you were there when your world has ended. Connor hasn't really paid attention before, but right now..."

"It's always surprising how others always look normal till they do a striking, crazy action."

* * *

"Good morning, I'm detective Don Flack, NYPD. We talked on the phone some minutes ago."

The courier manager smiled nervously, "of course, I was waiting for you. Package is over there."

Few moments later Flack was holding a box as big as a shoebox. _Thought he used the original package, but I was wrong. _After thanking the man, he left, ready to go back to the lab. He was about to get in the car when the window of a party favors shop captured his attention. He couldn't help entering, _I know, it's so wrong, I should be already driving back, but..._

The owner greeted him warmly and Flack found himself smiling back.

"Morning. The cake topper in the front window... could I see it better?"

When the owner gave it to him, Flack almost started laughing. It was perfect. The groom and the bride were both wearing a Kevlar vest above their wedding clothes, the bride was holding a gun while the groom was speaking on a cell phone. They were fabulous. _And the groom has even blue eyes. Jess's gonna to adore it._

"It's unique, isn't it?"

"Very. I'll buy it."

A while later, almost whistling happily, Flack left the shop with another package.

* * *

"Only a bullet has been found."

"Yeah, and it didn't went off, so we can't compare it."

"Caliber and gun model are the same, though."

"Delivery! Who's gonna sign the receipt?"

"If you fail as detective, you'll make a great courier."

Mac took the package from Don's hands and open it very carefully. Looking at him, it was like looking at someone defusing a bomb. Fact was he didn't want to destroy hidden evidences. He cut the tape, open the cardboard box and extract the inside: a cell phone and a closed envelope. In the envelope he found a simple white paper neatly folded. On the middle, a diligent printer had given words to an insane mind's thought: _Where were you when your world has ended?_

And every remaining doubt about Ginzburg's innocence flew out off the window.

* * *

_A/N: As you could see, this chapter hasn't been edited. So, forgive any mistakes. _


End file.
